


Two Hands to Make the World

by catwalksalone



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Developing Relationship, Drama, Finding your place, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Post-Canon, Self-Discovery, Strange New World, sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 00:36:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5687815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catwalksalone/pseuds/catwalksalone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hardest prisons to escape are the ones inside your own head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is complete at ~26500 words but will be posted in three parts for those who don't like to read too much in one go! (tags and rating apply to the whole fic, not just this part) Many, many thanks to soupytwist and izzybeth for their amazing skills and knowledge and also to salvamisandwich and all the twitter stormpiloters for kindness and enthusiasm. You are all brilliant.

“Easy, now, buddy. Easy.” 

Finn snapped awake, scrabbling at the snow under his hands, forcing himself into a sitting position, half-blinded by light that shouldn’t exist. His hands were so numbed by cold the snow seemed smooth and dry. Where was the light coming from? Where was Rey? He twisted in a wild arc, willing himself to see more clearly and started to fall.

A pair of solid hands on his arms guided him back to safety. 

Finn squeezed his eyes tight shut and opened them again. Slowly the world eased into focus and he found himself staring into Poe Dameron’s face, concern written in knitted brows. 

“Where am I?”

“Always a classic. Good start. We’re back on the base. You remember your name, kid?”

“Why? Don’t you? You named me.” Funny how quickly his new name had become him in a few days more than his designation had in his whole life.

“And I did a hell of a job.” Poe grinned, settling back in his chair. Not the cocky grin he’d flashed when they’d stolen the TIE fighter, but the other one. The one that Finn had watched spread across his face when they’d run towards each other, just happy to see each other alive. Finn frowned.

“How dead was I?”

“On a scale of one to total annihilation I’d say you were pretty high up there. You’ve been asleep a while.”

“How long, exactly?”

Poe’s eyes flickered away and then returned. “Couple of weeks.”

Finn glanced around the small room. Nothing much to do here but sit. “You weren’t here the whole time, were you?”

There was that flickering again. What did that mean?

“What? You think I haven’t got better things to do than babysit a moof-milker who got himself sabered in the back?” Poe folded his arms, looking away. “Sometimes I had BB-8 watch you instead.”

Something rushed inside Finn like a rusty faucet twisted open, but he ignored it. “Rey,” he said, suddenly panicked, swinging his legs over the side of his sickbed. “Where’s Rey?”

Poe put a steadying hand on Finn’s leg. “Relax. She’s good. At least, we’re pretty sure she’s good. She took Chewie and R2 in the Falcon and they left to find Skywalker. She’s bringing him home, but they’re taking some kind of detour first. Skywalker insisted.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “For real?”

“For real.”

“Go, Rey,” he muttered, pushing away the unreasonable thought that she could have waited for him. Of course she couldn’t; there was work to do and it wasn’t as if comas came with an alarm clock setting. Then, “Poe, Kylo Ren. I saw what...General Organa, is she…?”

“She’s hurting, but she’s not sharing. She’ll want to see you now you’re awake, though.” Poe examined Finn with a critical eye. He motioned at his own chin. “Maybe clean up a bit first. That fuzz on your face looks like you’ve been attacked by fungus. Also--and I say this as a friend--you stink like nerf dung. Two weeks in a coma’ll do that to a guy.”

Finn sniffed at an armpit and grimaced. No arguing the point there. He looked around. They were in a small room separated from the main command room by thick, plastic sheeting. Beyond it, dim figures moved with purpose like a dance Finn didn’t know the steps to. The room was deserted except for the two of them. “So can I just...walk out of here?”

“Let’s ask someone who knows. Stay there, kid, I’ll go bring Doctor Kalonia.”

“Don’t call me kid!” Finn called after him. Han Solo could have called Finn anything he wanted and Finn would have borne it without complaint. What else could you do with a legend? But the designation had died with him and Finn couldn’t imagine it would ever sit right from anyone else. Poe was already gone and did not hear him. Without him everything seemed too quiet and Finn hummed to himself to make a little noise. Halfway through the third measure he realized he was humming a First Order anthem and ground to a halt. He shuddered. He’d run fast and he’d run far, but they were still in his head in ways he couldn’t fathom. You were either theirs or you were dead and Finn was breaking all the rules. Punishment was harsh and swift and rare among the stormtrooper ranks. Who needed it when prisons were in each of their heads? 

The plastic sheeting rustled and a gaunt figure with greying hair stepped into the room. “I see my favorite patient is up and about.” 

Finn shook his head free of the strains of melody. “Favorite, huh?”

“You were quiet and still and let me poke you with needles without complaint. Best type of patient, I’d say.” The doctor’s face was grave, but her eyes smiled. This was okay. This was joking, this wasn’t compliance training. Finn let himself relax.

“I aim to please. Am I good to go, doc?”

“Just a few checks, if you don’t mind. No needles now, I promise.”

“Do what you gotta do,” said Finn, and held out his arm.

Somewhere behind Doctor Kalonia’s left shoulder, Poe hovered, tapping his chrono and holding his nose. Finn shook his head, _idiot_ , and there was that rusty faucet again, creaking open and flooding him with something that made his limbs crackle. Maybe it was an after-effect of the lightsaber wound. Maybe it had done something bad to his nervous system that they were keeping from him for his own good. 

“Well, I don’t recommend you diving straight back into heroics,” said the doctor eventually, tucking the reflex hammer back into her pocket, “but I’d say you were fit to return to quarters provided someone is responsible for you.”

“He’s with me,” said Poe. “We saved each other’s lives one time and all the stories say that makes us responsible for each other.”

Doctor Kalonia raised her eyebrows. “Tell that to a doctor.”

“So it’s possible the stories are mynock shit,” Poe conceded. “But I’m taking him anyway.”

Doctor Kalonia held up her hands. “You’ll get no arguments from me. Make sure he drinks plenty of fluids and don’t let him eat too much for his first meal or you may find yourself responsible for the consequences and no one wants that, life-saving reciprocity or no.” She drew a tube of cream out of another pocket and handed it to Poe. “Rub this over the wound area on his back. Gently, now! His shoulder is healing nicely and should look after itself. After a shower, before sleep, on waking. I’ll expect him back tomorrow for follow up. Any weakness, tingling, numbness, come straight back in. Some muscle fatigue is to be expected, so don’t worry too much about that.” With that she patted Finn on the shoulder and left them to it.

“Let’s get out of here,” Finn said, standing up. Or at least, that was what he was aiming to do. His legs, apparently unused to the movement, buckled under him and he would have hit the floor hard if Poe hadn’t grabbed him in time, sliding his arm around Finn’s waist and dragging Finn’s arm across his shoulder.

“I got you, buddy,” said Poe. “C’mon, baby steps now.”

Progress to Poe’s quarters was slow. Poe was pressed tight along Finn’s body, taking his weight and Finn’s stomach churned with a mix of nerves and queasiness. It was probably the aftermath of everything that had happened; after all, in some ways the fight with Kylo Ren was only minutes ago, in others it was weeks, no wonder his brain and his body were out of sync. As they neared the building BB-8 squealed out of the door, rolling straight to Finn and bumping him in the legs, chattering non-stop in binary.

“Hey, watch the invalid!” Finn complained with zero animosity.

“He says, ‘Welcome back,’” Poe translated. “I think he missed you.”

BB-8 rattled off another string of incomprehensible beeps. 

“No, I will not. No, I do not. None of your business.” Poe’s grip tightened on Finn’s waist and he was aware for the first time of a steady, throbbing pain along the length of his spine, worse where Poe’s arm pressed against it. 

He flinched, unable to stop himself. Poe stopped in his tracks. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. It’s nothing. I’m good, let’s go.”

“Kid, I don’t need the Force to know that you’re lying.”

“Don’t call me kid,” Finn said on autopilot. “And if you have to know, it’s my back. Where he...you know.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Poe relaxed his grasp to Finn’s immediate relief. “Can you make it? It’s only a few more steps.”

Finn nodded. His legs were starting to feel more solid. He could do this.

By the time he’d made the sanctuary of Poe’s cot he was sweating and shaking like a severed rathtar tentacle. “Just gotta lie down,” he said. “Rest.”

“Oh no you don’t. ‘fresher first, you stink beast.”

Finn shook his head. “I can’t. I’ll die.”

“Seems like you’re pretty hard to kill. I guess you’ll survive.”

Finn groaned. “Don’t make me, Poe. You’re supposed to be my friend.” Finn had to admit he had a shaky grasp on what friendship actually meant, but he was pretty sure it didn’t include torture by shower.

Poe sighed. “Do you want me to help you?”

“Yes. Please, yes.”

“Okay, then.”

Of course, if Finn had thought it through he would have realized that being helped into the refresher by Poe would mean that at least one of them would have to be naked, but it still came as a surprise when Poe started to tug at the tunic they’d put on him in the medbay. His first instinct was to shove Poe’s hands away, but then he remembered he’d asked for this and raised his arms instead. As he pulled at the tunic, Poe’s knuckles grazed Finn’s sides. The shock of it made him convulse. No one had touched him there with such gentleness. That wasn’t how it worked.

“Shit, did I hurt you?” Poe froze, tunic halfway up Finn’s outstretched arms.

He shook his head, mute, half-dreading, half-anticipating what was going to come next. Poe finished with the tunic and pulled Finn to his feet. 

“Pants,” he said. “Can you do those yourself?”

Finn looked down at the loose pants tied with a drawstring. “Yeah,” he said, disappointed in a way that made no sense to him. He fumbled the knot open with trembling fingers and let the fabric slide down under its own weight. It was soft against his skin, pooling around his ankles. Finn stayed where he was, pressing his own knuckles into the outside of his thighs. It wasn’t the same. Poe cast him an odd look and then started shucking his own clothes.

Finn watched in fascination, his fatigue forgotten for the moment. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen naked bodies before, but they were those he had grown up with, stripped of meaning by overexposure. This was what you all looked like under your armor. You had limbs and genitals and navels. Finn remembered being small, when he hadn’t learned yet, and he’d been fascinated because everyone in his unit had a navel that went in, but FN-1246 had one that stuck out. He’d resisted for as long as he could, taking his allocated place and allocated time for daily ablutions, but one day he’d broken rank and marched straight up to FN-1246, reaching out to touch that strange protrusion. FN-1246 had screamed and he had screamed too and then the Cadet Squadron Commander had backhanded him so hard he’d flown across the room. He’d had his rations cut for a week. After that, Finn only looked down at his feet during ablutions time. Even later when things were different he never let his eyes rest in one place for too long, just in case.

Now, though. Now he stared as Poe’s body emerged from under layers of clothing, his warm skin slowly revealed. Some part of him expected still to be punished for this watching and he fought against the rising panic. Then Poe caught his eye and Finn’s heart hammered in his throat. Maybe it didn’t have to be the Commander who meted out the punishment, maybe it wasn’t okay to stare like this even outside of the Order. 

But Poe winked. He winked and ran a hand through his hair and said, “Like what you see, huh?”

“I...I...I…” Finn stammered, the panic of potential pain receding only to be replaced by a wash of burning shame that spread across his whole body. 

“I’m kidding!” Poe shook his head. “Sheesh. I’m sorry, Finn. I forget you grew up in a hotbed of evil, repressed lunatics. Probably did a real number on you, right?” 

“I think I’m only just figuring out how much,” Finn agreed, shame receding under Poe’s friendly gaze.

Poe reached out and grasped Finn’s shoulder. “I know Rey’s not here right now, but you’re not alone, okay? I got your back for as long as you need it. And that means for anything.”

“Thanks,” said Finn, totally aware of how inadequate the word was.

“Now get in that shower before you get this placed condemned for toxic waste.” Poe took both of Finn’s hands. “Careful, now,” he said, nodding towards where Finn’s feet were still tangled in his pants. 

Finn nodded and let himself be led, keeping his eyes on his feet the whole time. 

“Here we are,” said Poe.

Finn looked up, recognizing the simple water shower unit from when he and Rey had arrived at the base. Then he’d shared the communal refreshers, this time was the first in his life that he’d been in a place where he could actually shower alone. Not that he was, but the idea was enough to make him grin.

“What’s up?”

“You get to just be in here. You know, by yourself. And with _water_. You don’t have to keep count in your head until your turn is up. Or make sure you expose everything to the sonics. You could just like, I don’t know, stand under the water and think. That’s so cool.”

Poe laughed. “Kid, since you broke me out you’ve seen more than you probably could’ve ever imagined and it’s the _shower_ that gets you going? You’re a little nuts. I’m blaming the coma.”

“Still not a kid. And shut up, you have no idea. C’mon, let’s go!”

Poe let go of Finn, still laughing, and turned to a panel on the wall. Finn looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. His eyelids flickered as the first drops hit his face, but then he relaxed into it, the water rolling across his parched skin. He moaned. “This feels so good.”

Finn felt it like a shift in the water temperature, the change in the quality of Poe’s silence. He dropped his head back down, opening his eyes and shaking them clear of water. Poe leaned against the wall, serious and watching. There was something in his face that Finn didn’t understand and yet it brought back the thudding pulse in his throat. 

“What?” he said.

“Soap.” Poe’s expression flicked back to open and smiling so quickly Finn was disoriented. He shook his head again to see if it would help. It didn’t.

“Soap,” he repeated, just for something to say.

“You do know how to shower, right? Water’s only half the battle.”

Finn was back on solid ground. “Sure. I mean the First Order only had evil soap for hand sanitizing, but I guess Resistance soap works on the same kind of cleaning principle. Just over a bigger area.”

“Bigger _and_ better.”

“Of course.”

Poe hit some more buttons and a drawer slid out. He handed the contents to Finn. “You can do this yourself, right? You probably don’t want me touching…” He waved towards Finn’s genitals, eyes looking anywhere but there. 

Something sparked inside Finn. He looked down at his genitals and then across at Poe’s. His fingers twitched. What would it be like to touch any part of Poe? Why not there, too?

“Why?”

“Because it’s weird?”

“Why?”

“ _Why_?”

“I’m confused. Why what?”

“Sweet mother of chaos, Finn, you haven’t...What did those bastards do to you?”

“I don’t understand.” Finn’s chest tightened.

“Hey, hey, don’t sweat it.” Poe said, those knitted brows back in full force. “Let’s just get you clean, yeah?” He took the packets from Finn’s unresisting hands, snapping one open and pouring the contents onto his palm, mixing it with water. It swelled into a small, pale yellow lump, mottled with holes. 

Poe handed it back. “Sponge.” He snapped open the second packet and tipped it out over the sponge. “You know the drill.”

Finn nodded and squeezed the powder into the sponge, a rich lather bubbling up and sliding away down his hand. Without thought he began the routine. Head first, scrubbing the bubbles through his hair, letting them drain away over his face. Arms, armpits, chest, counting down sixty to zero.

“Yo, Speedy, take your time and watch that burn on your shoulder. It’s still looking pretty raw.”

Startled, Finn lost count. How had he forgotten about that? He ran a finger over the area. It didn’t hurt, but the skin was smooth, unused. He’d burned himself on a faulty conduit once. The healing skin had been a livid pink for weeks, reminding him to take better care or at least better gloves. He kept washing and turned around. “Tell me.”

He heard Poe suck in a breath and braced himself. “I don't know what you want me to say."

"The truth."

"Well, it's not pretty. You were kind of charcoaled there. They had to cut away a whole lot, cloned your tissue and grafted it back on. It's paler than the rest of you, I guess because it hasn't seen the sun, and you have two scars running either side. Neat, but kinda angry looking."

"Show me.” Finn resisted the temptation to twist his head to try and look as Poe tracked a path either side of his spine, stopping at his lower back. There was some sensation there, but muted, nothing like Poe’s knuckles against him earlier. For a second, Finn imagined grabbing Poe’s hand and dragging it over his skin and then something connected in his brain and he said, “My spine.”

Poe’s fingers dropped away. “You’re not 100% Finn any more, but you get to be able to move, so that’s a bonus.”

Finn turned back around. “I feel like me.”

“Microscopic repair bots working their little miracles. It’s why you were out so long. What does it mean to feel like you anyway?”

That was a question Finn didn’t have the answer to. Not yet.

“Shit,” said Poe. “I’ve freaked you out again. I really gotta learn when to close my damn mouth.”

“No, I’m good,” said Finn and at least on some level he knew he was telling the truth.

Eventually, clean and shaved, Finn sat on Poe’s cot, elbows resting on his thighs as Poe rubbed the cream from the doctor onto his graft. 

“Gotta question,” said Poe, fingers moving in tight circles over the new skin.

“Mmmm?”

“It’s kinda awkward.”

“Whatever,” said Finn, relaxed and, for someone who’d been in a coma for days, surprisingly sleepy.

Poe’s fingers stilled for a moment and then started up again. “Before. In the ‘fresher. When I said you wouldn’t want me washing your junk and you were...surprised. Have you never...I mean, you do know what...Ah, shit, you know that’s not just for pissing, right?”

“Not just for...Wait. Oh, man.” Finn straightened up, glancing sideways at Poe. “You think I don’t know about sex? I’m pretty sure everyone in the galaxy knows about sex. Maybe not little kids, but.”

Poe’s face was a comical mixture of relief and confusion. “But you wanted to know why I shouldn’t…And then you were confused, so I thought...”

Finn tried to figure this from Poe’s perspective. He didn’t know the rules of this world, only what the First Order had taught him. They probably did things differently here. Maybe better. “You’re the one who said it was weird.”

“Only because you asked why.”

“Hold up,” said Finn. “Seems to me like we crossed wires somewhere. Here’s how it went back in the First Order. When you got old enough there were these classes. Sex ed. All the basic plumbing and all the shit that could go wrong. We were taught that sex was a natural outlet to reduce surplus aggression and that if we needed to do it, we should find someone else who needed to do it and, you know, do it.”

“With anyone?”

“With anyone who wanted to.”

“Wow.” Poe stopped rubbing again. “I guess that makes some kind of sense. I remember being a horny teenager. Nothing’s gonna be more likely to screw with the whole brainwashing thing than thwarted hormones. Clever bastards.” He squirted more cream on his fingers and reapplied himself to Finn’s back. “So you’ve…”

“Oh, yeah. Lots.”

“With whoever?”

“Yeah.”

“Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

“We didn’t do friends.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Sex was okay, sex with the same person only was deviant and got you sent for reconditioning. It was never about the person, only the act.”

“That’s cold.”

“Is it?” Finn thought about the bond he’d formed with Rey, the one he’d formed with Poe. They were both fierce and forged in fire and he thought that maybe in some way he loved them. Not in the same way he’d been taught to love the First Order, but because they’d rescued each other when they’d needed it. But he didn’t know where it was supposed to go from here. How did it work now they weren’t running? 

“You can’t understand. We were so indoctrinated into the cause we never stepped out of line. They taught us that caring about someone more than anyone else was favoritism and against the code of the Order. They said the Order was about everyone being equal, all of us. It didn’t matter if we worked in sanitation or as Kylo Ren’s personal bodyguard, every stormtrooper fought for the advancement of the Order. That was how it was. We were chosen, that’s what they told us. Not stolen, chosen. They made us believe. We believed so hard, we would have done anything.” Finn’s stomach churned and he pressed a hand over it to quiet it.

“What changed for you?”

Finn shook his head. “I don’t know. When we came to the village to find you it was the first time I’d gone into battle for them. Then I saw FN-2300 die. I _felt_ it. We weren’t supposed to...but we’d worked sanitation together. He’d crack these jokes about the weird shit we’d find in the compactors. I guess I liked him. Maybe we were friends, I don’t know. But then he was dead and I got what that meant. I got what we were doing. And then the villagers.” 

Finn stopped, heart racing as he remembered the intense wave of terror and pain that had rolled over him in waves as the other stormtroopers lifted their blasters and gunned the people down like it was nothing. He’d never experienced anything like it before, not even in the sims where he’d balked at the idea of killing even AI civilians. This was a visceral, bone-stripping agony of hundreds of voices, real voices, facing their end. With each crumpling body the pain lessened, but that had done nothing to ease Finn’s distress. He’d only kept his feet by the strength of his training. How was he supposed to explain that?

He tried, “It was like waking up from a dream, you know? Like when you’re in it it all makes sense and you’re just going along for the ride but the second you wake up you realize how messed up it all is and if the dream you had any sense he’d have run screaming. I did, I guess. I didn’t stop screaming until I found you. I don’t know if I have yet.” It would have to do.

Poe was very still for a second, something in his face impossible to read. Then he said, “I’d say you’re safe now, but we both know that’s not true. How about we settle for you finding me was a good day for both of us?”

Finn nodded. There was part of him that just wanted to slide down until his head was in Poe’s lap and go to sleep there. Like, sure they were only in a temporary reprieve from First Order attacks, but if he could lie his head there and sleep while Poe kept watch then he’d be as safe as it was possible to be. 

“You look done in,” said Poe. “Here, you’re all set with your back. Why don’t you lie down and take a nap?”

For a second, Finn thought Poe had read his mind and then Poe was shifting off the cot, making room. He swallowed down his disappointment. Sleeping on your buddy’s lap was probably something else there were rules about. He was going to have to learn a whole set of new ones. Later, though. He lay down, punching the pillow into comfortable submission, and was asleep in seconds.

***

He woke to a pounding heart and a cold sweat, the memory of Kylo Ren’s lightsaber burning a phantom stripe up his spine.

“Poe!” he called, but he was alone. Or no, not alone. BB-8 rolled towards him emitting a series of concerned sounding beeps and offering Finn a piece of flimsi in one pincered arm. 

“Thanks, buddy.” Finn took the flimsi and unfolded it. It was a handwritten note from Poe. Finn hadn’t seen anything handwritten since they’d been taught their letters as junior cadets. Poe’s writing was neat and precise, printed letters of regimented heights. It didn’t feel quite natural, like Poe had taken extra concern to make sure Finn would be able to read it.

“Sorry to duck out on you, kid,” it read. Finn narrowed his eyes. Not a kid. “Got called away by the General. Left you some clean gear. Get dressed and come to Ops when you're done. If you can’t make it under your own steam send BB-8 to get help.” Then there was a scrawl Finn assumed was Poe’s name and some way under that, as if it were an afterthought he'd had to write down, in a much more relaxed hand that seemed way more like the Poe Finn was getting to know, “Hope you slept good.”

Just like that, the fear mixed from the residue of his dream and from waking alone vanished. Finn grinned at BB-8. “Okay, you're the boss here. Clothes?” BB-8 rolled over to a straight-backed chair set by the wall, a neat pile of folded laundry on the seat, a brown belt curled on top like a sleeping snake. A long, green jacket hung over the back of the chair. Finn swung himself up onto his feet, swaying a little as his vision fizzled at the edges. “Whoa,” he told himself. “Stood up too quick.”

BB-8 made some frantic sounds and bumped against his legs--trying to shore him up Finn figured. “Nice try, but we both know I could take us both down and only you’d bounce back. I can do this.” 

If he could convince the droid, he could convince himself. It was easy enough to make the few steps to the chair. Finn let the towel fall from his waist and got himself dressed, taking it nice and slow. The clothes were a snug fit, so Finn guessed they had to be Poe’s own. They were much the same height, but Poe was a narrower build. He picked up the jacket. With luck this would be a little looser. Finn didn’t want to take out yet another one of Poe’s jackets even if the loss of the first wasn’t exactly his fault. Impulsively, he sniffed at the collar. There was a faint scent of engine oil to it, stronger ones of starched fabric and some kind of cleaning product, and something else cutting through it all, something that reminded Finn of Poe. Stood to reason. All humans had their own smell. He’d shared close quarters long enough to be only too aware of that. On the scale of sweaty feet to sweaty armpits he’d gotten used to, Poe was definitely winning. Finn slipped on the jacket, belting it loose enough to avoid it pressing on his back.

Outside the air was warm and still, the dry heat so different to the desert torture of Jakku. Besides the odd, “Hey, it’s that guy! Way to go, that guy!” from folk taking a break in the shade of entrances to various underground rooms. Finn was undisturbed in his slow meander to Ops. BB-8 rolled by his side the whole way, veering off only to let Finn know when he was headed in the wrong direction. Sweat was pricking his armpits and Finn was starting to wonder about the wisdom of wearing a jacket by the time he walked up to the entrance.

“Sir,” said a Nosaurian, pushing himself off the wall where he’d been lounging and snapping to attention. “You’re expected.”

“I’m not a sir,” Finn said, hoping he was managing to conceal the _No, but look at those **horns**_ that was all his brain was apparently capable of producing. His exposure to non-human sentient species had been mostly through Galactic Ecology lessons and there was a whole world--a whole _galaxy_ \--of difference between acing his identification tests and actually seeing the objects of his study in the flesh. It was so cool. So unbelievably cool. At Maz Kanata’s place he’d been too freaked out to take it all in, but now... He remembered Han’s admonition about staring and figured that was a lesson worth hanging on to. He hauled his hand back from where it was creeping out of its own accord to touch the Nosaurian’s scales. No, Finn. Bad touch. 

“Totally out of my depth, sure. Sir, no.” Well, it looked like Finn had found something else he wasn’t going to attach his identity to. Not a stormtrooper, a kid or a sir. That still had to leave a whole bunch of options, right?

He walked down the steps into the chamber, roots clinging to neat blocks of stone that shored up the walls. The first thing he noticed was the coolness of the dimly lit room, the tech ancient and shabby compared to the spare, yet modern First Order. It was cold enough down here for him to get goosebumps; maybe the jacket hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. The second was Poe, across the room but directly in Finn’s line of sight, grinning at him as if he’d performed some minor miracle by getting here. BB-8 rolled a little toward Poe and then back to Finn, back and forth with little keening beeps. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” said Finn. “He ordered you to stick to me like glue, but you want to be over in the action. I’m walking, all right? Keep your antennae on.”

Poe murmured something to the person he was talking to and she turned around, coming towards him with an outstretched hand, face transforming from grave to appreciative in an instant: General Organa. Finn took a moment to feel bad for having lied to her about the shields, and another to feel worse that Han wasn’t here to take the opportunity to split on him. Then he found himself pumping her hand and answering the smile in her eyes with a wide beam of his own.

“Good to see you on your feet,” said General Organa, retrieving her hand. “We’re all so grateful for what you did. You saved many lives.”

The guilt rose again as Finn heard the unspoken loss in her voice. She wasn’t accusing him; Finn could do that all by himself.

“I didn’t do anything anyone else here wouldn’t do,” he said.

“Be that as it may, you did a great thing, Finn. To walk away like that, to turn away from darkness, it can’t have been easy.”

It would be easier if she’d just say what she meant, Finn thought. Then he could, too. He could say, I’m not sure if I’m just a coward, if I’d have stayed if I hadn’t had to look into the eyes of the people I was supposed to kill. I’m not sure I would have gone in to Starkiller Base if not for Rey. Instead he said, “It’s quiet out there.”

Poe took half a step forward. “We may have destroyed the super weapon, but the First Order still know we’re here. They’ll regroup and come for us. We’ve already moved most of the key personnel and equipment to another base. General Organa should be gone, too, but she refused to go before you were brought out of the coma.”

“It wasn’t considered safe to move you while you were in the middle of treatment and I wanted to be here when you woke up.” General Organa touched his arm. “I at least owed you that. I tried to order Poe off world--long range scanners or not, I didn’t want to risk our best pilot--but he flat out refused to go.”

“Nearly got me a court-martial,” said Poe, the shared look of amusement between him and the General giving the lie to his words. “Worth it.”

“We’ll leave in the morning. You’ll come with us, of course?”

“Sure, General.” Why the hell not? Rey would be back and he needed to be somewhere while he was figuring his stuff out.

“I’m sure we can find you something useful to do. What’s your skillset?”

Now that was a question Finn knew the answer to. It’s just that it wasn’t exactly a great answer. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can recycle your trash? Maybe unblock the sewage?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was in sanitation. Sanitation and the FN- Battalion. So I guess I’m pretty handy with a blaster and precision marching, too, if you’ve got any need for that kind of thing.”

General Organa raised her eyebrows. “You’re fit, brave and resourceful. We’ll figure something out.”

“If you want my opinion, he’s a natural gunner,” said Poe. “Saved our asses more than once when we escaped. Bit of training and he’ll be a real asset.”

Finn’s chest puffed and he stood a little straighter. Whenever Hux had said “asset” it had sounded disposable, no difference between a wrench and a trooper. The way Poe said it made Finn want to earn it, reach out and grab the word and pin it to his chest like a star. 

“I think we could make that happen,” General Organa agreed. “When he’s fully recovered, of course.” She started to turn away and then thought better of it. “By the way, Finn what?”

“Finn what what?”

“We document everything--it’s important not to lose sight of where we came from. In the interests of accuracy we need your full name.”

“It’s just Finn,” said Finn.

“No family name? That's unusual for a human. Not a problem--plenty of sentients have only one name--just unusual.”

“No family. No name before Poe gave me one.”

General Organa looked between the two of them. “Explain.”

“She doesn’t know?” Finn asked Poe.

Poe shook his head. “It hasn’t come up.” He turned to the General. “Ma’am, the stormtroopers are stolen children. They have no identity beyond what the First Order gives them. They’re a string of letters and numbers, barely human at all.”

General Organa clenched her fists. “Those evil-” Her hand touched Finn’s arm again. “I’m sorry for what they did to you, but I can’t be sorry you were brought to us. Let us be your family now.”

For a brief second Finn was weightless, buoyed up by the possibilities of a future he could never have imagined. “Thank you!” he said, taking her hand and pumping it again, “I won’t let you down, I swear. I mean, I really swear. Like, a lot.”

The General laughed. “I’m gonna need that arm back. It comes in handy for a few things.”

Finn dropped her hand like an overheated blaster. “Sorry.”

“He gets a little over-excited,” said Poe, moving to stand next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “But he means well.”

“I can tell. Now go eat or something. Black Leader here will escort us in his own ship, of course, but you should be at the transport bay at first light.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Poe and Finn chorused and did as they were told.

***

Finn shoved a forkful of something brown in his mouth. It was quiet in the mess given most of the personnel had already moved off site. “So where are we headed?”

“Jakku.”

“No way! Why does everybody keep going back to that-”

“Your face!” crowed Poe and doubled over with laughter, BB-8’s beeps sounding suspiciously like giggling.

“You’re a real dirtbag, you know that?”

Poe straightened up, shrugging. “Oh, yeah. Man and boy.” He cocked his head to one side. “That jacket looks good on you.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Then quit looking better in my clothes than I do.”

There was that rush and crackle that was starting to become familiar. Three times now and all around Poe, so he was definitely the catalyst here. Was this a friendship thing, when it made you feel good to be around someone? If it was, then Finn liked it. Maybe they could do it some more.

“Poe?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Should I have another name?”

“Because of what the General said?”

“Because everyone has two. Humans, anyway. There’s you--Poe Dameron, then Han Solo, Luke and Leia Skywalker, hell, even Kylo Ren has two names. Twice. I’m just Finn.” Like Rey was just Rey.

Poe twisted the cup he was holding around and around. “Mostly we get our names from our families. There’s nothing wrong with only having one.”

Finn heard the words he was carefully not saying, but there was no sense in regretting what he’d never known. “Yeah, I get that. But what if I wanted another one?”

Poe stopped twisting and looked across at Finn. “I guess you could call yourself whatever you wanted. It’s not like either of us put a whole lot of thought into coming up with Finn.”

“I like Finn,” said Finn, frowning.

“I’m not saying I don’t. Well? Do you have a name in mind or what?”

Finn considered. Let us be your family now, General Organa had said and he and Poe were already brothers-in-arms. He shrugged, holding out his hands. “Dameron?” he said slowly, testing the word out on his tongue. Finn Dameron. That felt...okay, actually.

Poe’s eyebrows climbed halfway off his head. “You...so...that…” He bit his lip. “Start again. I’m kinda...flattered? But there would be a hell of a lot of talk, if you know what I’m saying?”

“What kind of talk? Are people not supposed to take the names of people they admire?” 

“It’s not...Wow, you do not play fair.” Poe downed his drink. “Why don’t you think about it a little? It’s not like you need official idents any time soon. Maybe something that fits you more will occur.”

Finn frowned. Seemed to him that it fit fine the way he had it. But maybe people were precious about their names in this world where they were handed them at birth by loving parents. He could understand that. Since the moment Poe had given him Finn, he’d held it to him like a tiny flame cupped in his hand, precious and fragile, growing stronger with every time someone called his name. 

“If you want me to think about it, I’ll think about it,” said Finn, looking away and setting his jaw. He’d think about how people might look at the two of them together and say, “Oh, there go the Dameron boys. Getting up to trouble, no doubt.” He’d think about he’d managed to luck his way into this extraordinary life thanks to a guy he barely knew who’d greeted him like a long lost friend and sat with him as he slept so that he wouldn’t be alone. He’d think about how even if he still wasn’t sure who he was, then he at least knew who he could count on. Rey didn’t have a name to give him and Poe did. If Poe wanted him to go quietly for now, then he would, but it didn’t mean Finn couldn’t slip Finn Dameron under his skin to see if he could wear it well.

***

Trying to ignore the constant itching of the healing wound on his back, Finn stared out of the window of the transport, watching the planet grow from a pinprick of light to a bright blue and green ball. It reminded him of Takodana and he pressed his forehead against the glass, thinking of the ruins that world had been left in. So much death and destruction and for what? To find some guy who didn’t even want to be found by his own side. What difference could Skywalker really make? Was he worth all those lives? Was anyone?

The ground came nearer and Finn saw a low sprawl of camouflaged buildings and tents resolve themselves out of the landscape. He wondered which of those would be his quarters. He wondered who he was going to be when he got there. He wasn’t a kid or a sir or a stormtrooper. He wasn’t even Resistance, not yet. He caught sight of Poe’s black T-70 X-wing touching down in a field close by the buildings. Maybe for now he could be Finn: Poe’s friend. It didn’t seem like a long-term solution, but since running from the First Order it wasn’t like Finn was thinking about pension plans anyway.

Yeah, okay, thought Finn, as they made landfall. He’d start over here on Seven Flames, Poe’s friend, trainee whatever they wanted him to be and he’d build himself from the ground up, the best Finn he could be.

When the door of the transport thudded open, Finn caught sight of Poe among the throng of people awaiting the General’s arrival. He stood to the side, arms folded and waggled his fingers at Finn in greeting. It was only the knowledge that if he even attempted to run he’d be meeting this planet face first that stopped Finn sprinting straight for him. The trip hadn’t even been that long yet it felt like he hadn’t seen Poe in _days_. He had a thousand things to tell him and most of them were, hi, hi, _hi!_ , have you seen this place? Have you seen the color of the _leaves_? I didn’t even know they came in that flavor of orange. Hi!

He made do with what he hoped was a casual saunter. Snap Wexley passing in the opposite direction slapped him on the back with a, “Thanks for the assist with the shields, friend.” The pain was immediate and intense, shooting through him, an echo of the lightsaber burn. Finn tipped forward, grasping his thighs and trying to stop himself throwing up the entire contents of his stomach. He stared at the grass, counting each blade to distract himself from the pain. Back in Basic it had been screws in the wall. 

Back in Basic no one had slipped an arm around his shoulders and said, “Finn. Finn. You got this and I've got you. Keep breathing, buddy. Take your time. Let it pass.”

Somewhere beyond the haze of agony, Finn could hear Poe fielding murmured voices of concern. By the time he had himself in enough control to stand up, they were alone, everyone else dispersed about their business. 

“You doing okay?”

Finn nodded, not trusting his voice not to crack. 

“Can you walk?”

He nodded again.

“I had you assigned to my quarters if you’re okay with that. I figured you might not want strangers gawking at your back and asking questions. And then there’s…” Poe trailed off, putting a little pressure on Finn’s elbow to get them moving. “You know,” he added eventually.

Finn knew. He’d had that same dream again last night, shaken awake before the horrifying conclusion, Poe crouching down in front of his face and telling him who and where he was, that he was safe, whole. 

“Thanks. I don’t need my unit knowing what a freak I am on my first day.”

“Team,” said Poe. “You haven’t been cleared yet, remember? And you’re not a freak.”

“Okay,” he said because it was easier to accept it than to question it. It always was.

“Good man. We’ll get you settled and then if you don’t feel like moving I can bring us some food from the mess.”

“Don’t you have better things to do than take care of me?”

“Nah. My bird is in good hands. And I have nothing scheduled tomorrow. Want to go explore?”

“Can we? Are there _boats_?” 

Poe laughed. “Easy, easy. Let’s see what the doc says before you go risking both our lives on the water.”

Finn pulled a face. “Sure, start being sensible now,” he said. “It’s not like you pull off impossible missions for a living.”

“There’s impossible and there’s dumb. And sometimes it’s hard to tell which is which. Through here.” 

Poe led them into a squat, one-story building, a long, white corridor stretching in front of them, doors painted a neutral gray set at regular intervals along both sides. 

“Used to be an Alliance support base back in the day,” Poe told Finn. “Nice setup for diplomatic interventions. We started expanding a couple of years ago because no one wants another Hoth. You gotta have somewhere to run.”

Finn had only heard of the Battle of Hoth as a great victory for the fallen Empire. It had been part of a cautionary tale of how hubris could bring down even the mightiest of leaders and through that the defeat of an admirable ideology. The Empire had been held up as an example of how a hierarchy could be destroyed by the actions of a few. The First Order, they had been told, was different because they were equal. All had a stake in bringing their vision of the future to the galaxy and in this way would succeed where the Empire had failed. Their generals were issuing orders on behalf of all of them. Finn had always had some difficulty understanding why he would issue himself an order to go unblock the nastiest of all the sewage pipes after Supreme Leader Day, but who was he to argue with history?

“Does that mean you’ll be scouting for a new base soon?”

“Already on it.” Poe read off a number on a door. “This is us. Home, sweet temporary home.” He opened the door and gestured Finn in with an exaggerated sweep of his arm.

“Wow,” said Finn.

“Really? Wow?”

“Really. This place is huge.”

“It’s really not.”

Finn walked into the center of the room and slowly turned around, his arms outstretched. 

“What are you doing?”

“Not hitting anything.” It was a simple space, plain pale gray walls, a cot set at either side, a good few feet apart, a locker by each of them. There were two straight-backed canvas chairs stacked in a corner and a long, thin cupboard behind the door. Nothing touched anything else. It was beautiful. 

Poe’s laugh was uncertain. “Is this because of the concussion? Should I get the doc?”

Finn stopped turning and dropped his arms to his sides. “I grew up in a room this size. Guess how many of us slept in it.”

Poe looked around. “Four? Six at a push.”

“Twelve.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not.”

Poe shook his head. “How would you even-? Like, maybe if none of you had limbs. And where would you put your stuff?”

“We didn’t have stuff.”

It was a simple truth, but Poe stared at Finn with those big, brown eyes and even Finn, who’d spent most of his adult life looking at helmets rather than faces could see the, “you poor bastard,” written in them. An unexpected flash of anger coursed through him. He wanted to defend himself, defend his life. Possessions were distractions. The First Order demanded humility in service to the cause. Humility meant valuing all as you valued yourself. To value objects as you valued life was to diminish those around you. He was about to spit this at Poe when Poe said,

“Twelve of you, huh? Bet the air was so ripe you could’ve split it and served it with a cool glass of Fizzade.”

-and he deflated so fast it made his head spin. He gave a laugh that sounded queasy even to him and stumbled for the closest cot, sitting on the edge and gripping it with both hands, watching the stars dance behind his eyelids.

“Don’t like my jokes, huh? I get that a lot.” Poe came to sit next to him. “You can have stuff here if you want to. We have surfaces that aren’t required for sleeping.” He indicated the lockers set next to each bed.

Finn squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, holding it for a long count before letting it out. The world righted itself again. “What stuff?”

“All kinds of stuff. Holocubes. Souvenirs? You know, things you pick up to remind you of times you’ve experienced. Like I have the emergency toolkit from the first ship I ever flew--my mom's old A-wing. It’s no use for the X-wing, wrong shape, but catch me trashing it. Way too many memories wrapped up in those wrenches to throw ‘em away.”

Finn was going to have to chalk this one up to ‘you probably had to be there.’ He'd spent some pretty intimate time with a spanner over his years in sanitation, but he had no wish to carry it around with him for always. To remember what? That time the waste pipe burst over his head and made his helmet stink like shit for weeks no matter what he did to clean it? That was already burned into his brain, thanks anyway. 

“You'll see,” said Poe to his absent response. “I can tell you’re going to be the clutter type. Now, you want me to take a look at your back? Check Snap didn’t damage anything?”

Finn nodded and took off his jacket and shirt. He laid them across his lap as Poe got on with his inspection, rubbing the collar of the jacket between finger and thumb. He paused. “Where do clothes come from?” he asked.

“Well, when a mommy sock loves a daddy sock very much...What do you mean, ‘where do clothes come from?’”

“You saw what I was wearing when we met up on D’Qar.”

“You mean other than my jacket?”

Finn looked down at Poe’s other jacket on his lap and smiled. “Yeah. Other than that. The black combo?”

“I remember.”

“That was my clothes.”

“I… _what_?”

“There was underwear too, and socks, but, yeah. That was it.”

“You’re looking fine back here, big guy. Damage points scored: zero. But you can’t have always been the strapping specimen you are today. You must have had smaller clothes at some point that got replaced. And you weren’t wearing the same underwear every day, right? Because some things go beyond the definition of gross.”

“No! It was...okay, so you had what you wore and you took it off at night and put it in the chute and in the morning there’d be a clean pile at the bottom of your bed. Exact same stuff every day. All black, always, to go under the armor. If you were non-troops it was uniform. I figured it worked the same way for them.”

“Wow, that’s-” The cot creaked as Poe shifted beside him. “I think for both our sakes we’re gonna have to accept the fact that every time you tell me something about how you were raised I’m gonna want to a, go back in time and punch the sons of a Murglak who stole you in the face and other parts and b, hug you and call you my poor youngling and explain that the real world doesn’t work that way. Because holy milking _Sith_ , that is nuts.”

“I’m getting that?” said Finn and it was more of a question than he’d hoped. “But seriously, Poe. I’m not totally dumb, I’ve got _eyes_. I know people wear different clothes and they have to pick them out somewhere, I just don’t know how it happens. Or how they get clean or fixed. And, like, I am totally okay with wearing yours, but you’ll probably need them back. I’m going to need some of my own unless everyone’s cool with a naked dude running about the place. They probably aren’t. Right?”

“Right,” Poe agreed. “You’ve never been to a store? A market? Never took a crash course in microeconomics?”

Finn shook his head, a hot flush starting to creep over his cheeks. This was such a dumb thing to get tripped up over, and it was only going to be one of many. He could see his life stretching ahead of him in a series of stupid questions while everyone looked at him like he’d grown two heads. It was not the most appealing future he could imagine, he had to admit. 

“You must think I’m a moron.” Finn glanced sideways at Poe, not really wanting to see his expression.

Poe gripped Finn’s shoulder and shook it. “I really don’t. But we’re gonna have to get you some holobooks so you can start getting to know the galaxy from a non-evil perspective. Gotta say, I’m concerned you’re a bad student.”

“Huh?”

“Obviously the First Order were teaching you evil, you know, basic through advance. Only you must have flunked out because--and I say this as someone who’s had the pleasure of working with you--it did not stick at all. So I’m guessing you daydreamed your way through Evil School, but now it’s time to dig in.”

“I’m not...I wasn’t the only one.”

“Only one what?”

“The only stormtrooper who quit.”

“That sounds like a book for younglings. Maybe you could have a second career as a writer. What do you mean you weren’t the only one? You’re the only one I’ve ever heard of.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“Yeah?”

“You. None of the others had you to fly them the hell out of there. First sign of non-conformity gets you sent to re-education. Second gets you sent for neural reconditioning. Third gets you shot.” It was the rarest of all punishments, but Finn remembered every single one. They made you watch, the helmet of the offender removed so you could see their fear and pain. If you were in their unit, there was a lottery to see who would have to shoot them. Finn’s unit had been solid so his number had never come up. If they’d been caught, he wondered who would have had the honor of killing him. No one left alive that cared one way or the other, he thought.

“Nope,” said Poe. “This isn’t going to work.”

“What isn’t?” Finn’s stomach swooped. He’d been too much trouble already, he knew that.

Poe flung his arms around Finn’s shoulders and pulled him in for an awkward sideways hug. “I have a job. I have to _do_ stuff. I do not have time to be constantly needing to let you know how glad I am that you made it out of there alive.”

“I’m sorry,” said Finn, misery rising in his throat.

“Trust me, kid. It’s not you, it’s me.”

“I’m not a kid,” Finn protested weakly, relieved, as Poe relaxed the hug, pulling Finn’s head down and kissing the top of it with a loud smacking sound.

“Whatever you say, kid,” said Poe, and ducked out of the way across the room as Finn reached for a pillow and flung it at his head.

***


	2. Part 2

“Yes,” said Doctor Kalonia, “I have to say I’ve done excellent work, here. Everything is in very good order indeed.”

“So I can go to my assignment?” Finn shrugged his tunic back on and slid off the bed. If he never saw the inside of the doc’s office again, he’d be thrilled.

“Don’t be in such a hurry, young man. The fight will be right where you left it when you’re ready to pick it up again. I can’t recommend you sit in a chair all day, at least for now.”

“How long?”

“Give it a week and then come back and see me. In the meantime, if you’re bored you could do worse than taking some nice long walks. Take in the air, admire the foliage. Be as one with nature and so on and so forth. No lifting heavy items until I expressly say so, do you understand?”

“Yes, doc.”

“Good. Now go away, there’s a dear. I have a new shipment coming in that I must supervise.”

Finn didn’t need telling twice to get out of there. On his way back to quarters he heard his name being called and turned to see who wanted him.

“Finn, wait!” A dark-haired woman in a now familiar orange flight suit waved at him with one hand, lugging a large bag with the other. He instinctively took a step towards her to offer to take the bag from her, but Doctor Kalonia’s severe expression flashed before his eyes and he rooted himself to the spot.

“Hey?” he said. “We’ve probably met, but mostly I’ve been in a coma.”

“I know. I’m Jess. Jessika Pava, Blue Squadron. I flew the Starkiller Base mission with Poe.”

“Oh, cool.” Finn wasn’t sure what to say. Good to see you didn’t die with half your squadron didn’t seem like the most tactful way to go about it.

“So Poe was called away to do a couple of things and he told me to bring you this bag.”

“What’s in it?”

“It’s your bag, not mine. I have no idea.”

“Okay.” Finn stared at the bag, wondering how he was supposed to get it back to his quarters without breaking the doctor’s order.

“Oh, yeah, and Poe said that if you even attempt to lift this sucker he’ll scuttle the boat that he found.”

“There’s a _boat_?”

“Yep. And me and Nunb have dibs on it for tomorrow so if you get it scuttled you’ll have three unhappy pilots on your hands.”

“Got it. So…” Finn stared at the bag some more.

“I’ll bring it to your room for you, numbnuts,” said Jess in a way that reminded him of Rey riding him about space wrenches. 

He wanted to say, “Are you sure?” but figured it might earn him the pointy finger and glare that Rey had offered so he stuck with, “That’s kind of you. Thanks.”

They walked back slowly, Finn unsure as to whether they were doing that for his benefit or hers. After a short silence except for the dragging sound of thick fabric against the ground, Jessika said, “Poe told me no questions, so I won’t. But he didn’t say I can’t answer any, so you got anything pressing?”

Finn considered. He had a whole list that he was storing up, starting at, “What was in that blue drink I had last night?” and working up from there. Jess’s definition of pressing might be a little different than his, though, so he picked a safer topic.

“Poe,” he said. “What can you tell me about him?”

“What do you want to know?”

“He’s just...he just so _Poe_ , you get me?”

Jess laughed. “Sounds right.”

“So he’s always been that way?”

“From what I hear. He used to fly for the New Republic before he was Resistance. This one time he saw a freighter get taken by the First Order and was told he couldn’t go track it. No one took the First Order seriously back then, not in the New Republic military. He went anyway and ran smack into a First Order staging point. Three Star Destroyers, the story goes. A whole bunch of frigates, cruisers, drones and about seventy TIE fighters. So obviously he hopped right back out of realspace and got away clean, right?”

Finn had seen that kind of firepower. Against one X-wing pilot? What hope could he have? “Right.”

“Wrong. Damn fool refused to bail until he’d got what he’d come for: the location of the freighter. He didn’t just not run, he _charged_.”

“He charged three Star Destroyers?”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Had he been chewing luna-weed?”

“You’d think. But no. Charged ‘em, got right in the middle so they were damaging each other with friendly fire, got the transponder signal he wanted, flipped a crazy-assed maneuver and punched the hyperdrive out of there.”

“Wow.” Finn was breathless just listening to it. He remembered the terror and exhilaration he’d experienced in their escape, the way he’d barely been able to stumble to the wreckage, wrung out like a limp rag. “Bet he slept for a week after that.”

“Not exactly. He quit and joined the Resistance the same day. That’s who Poe is, you know? He believes in doing what’s right, but he doesn’t always go about doing it the right way. Some people would probably say he’s reckless, but I know him. He’s never reckless with anyone else, only his own life. And possibly some property sometimes, but hey, you can’t make omelets without breaking eggs.”

“He trusts me,” said Finn.

“Any reason he shouldn’t?” Jess looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“No. No way! I’m all of the percent on your side. Destroy the First Order, yay.” He made a little fist and waved it next to his face. “I thought maybe that was him being reckless? I could have gotten him killed.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Only because I didn’t want to get killed.” Finn opened the door to his building. 

“That’s called a survival instinct. Look, Finn, don’t overthink it. Poe is a whizzywig kind of guy.”

“A what now?”

“Whizzywig? They don’t have that where you come from? What you see is what you get. Poe’s the kind of guy who lets you know exactly where you stand. He’s got no time for bantha poodoo. If it looks like he trusts you then he does. If you screw up he’ll tell you. That time I got too close in training and scraped his beautiful blackbird? I heard all about it in more detail than you’d’ve thought possible. But if he says he’s got your back, he’ll be on it so tight you think he’s glued to you.”

“You like him.” 

“He’s good people.”

“Have you guys had sex?”

Jess dropped the bag and stood staring at Finn, shoulders back and eyes wide. “That is not a question you get to ask.”

It took Finn a microsecond to remember how Poe had responded when they’d talk about sex in the First Order and another to make the connection to Jess’s current expression. “Oh, man, I’m sorry. I don’t...Everything is different here and I haven’t figured out the rules. Do you want to punch me? You look like you want to punch me. Go ahead, I don’t mind.”

Jess relaxed her posture, chin dropping. She shook her head. “I’m not going to punch you. Not this time. Seems we’re all going to have to do a little adjusting and I’d say you got the rancor’s share. Today’s lesson at Pava School: don’t ask strangers about their sex lives.”

Finn filed that one away. “What about friends?”

“Depends on the friend,” Jess said. “But you stand a better chance of staying unpunched.”

“What if I had something I wanted to know about sex? Who would I ask, if I had no friends?”

Jess cast him a strange look. “How the hell should I know? Might as well ask a protocol droid, they’re stuffed with more useless information than we could know in five lifetimes.”

Finn was almost sure she was joking, but, just in case she wasn’t, filed that one away too. 

They walked in silence the last few meters to Finn’s room. Jess dragged the bag inside and heaved it onto Finn’s cot. 

“Job done.”

Finn gave her his best gratitude smile, hoping that would appease any part of her left riled up by his misstep. “Thanks again, Jess. And I’m sorry about the other thing.”

“No worries,” said Jess. “Maybe I’ll let you ask me that question in a few months time. Maybe I won’t. See you around, new boy.”

“Bye.” Finn raised a hand, dropping it only when the door closed behind her. He turned his attention to the bag, going straight for the zip. What was the point in wondering if you could just see?

Inside were several silver-colored vacuum-sealed packets. He lifted them out and laid them on his cot. At the bottom of the bag were three sturdy boxes. He took those out, too. Kneeling on the floor he opened the seal on the first pack, rocking back on his heels in shock as the packet immediately increased to three times its size. He put in his hand and touched something soft. Curious, he pulled it out and shook it: it was a light grey woolen sweater. Nice, but, what? Clothes? Finn tipped the rest of the packet out on the cot. Another sweater--black this time--and some sort of sleeveless coat, khaki green and slippery to the touch. He went through each packet in turn revealing more clothes: pants, tunics and vests that matched the Resistance uniform, an all-in-one like a flight suit in a heavy fabric the same color as the sleeveless coat, pants of the same fabric, more pants of flimsier, stretchy material, underwear of all kinds and lengths--Finn was particularly dubious about the all-in-one item with the flap around the butt--short-sleeved tunics in a few different colors, mostly variations on brown, a jacket identical to the one he was wearing. Finn sat back with a plop, wrapping his arms around his knees, overwhelmed. This was all his? From _where_? And he hadn’t even tackled the boxes yet. 

This he did when he’d gotten his breath back. Inside the first he found a pair of sturdy work boots, in the second a smarter pair of shoes. The third contained a belt, some metal objects that seemed to small to be useful, a chrono on a plain brown leather strap, some glareshades: a whole host of odds and ends. Finn sat surrounded by all this bounty for several minutes unsure what he was supposed to do with it all. 

“Get it together,” he told himself. “You can’t leave it like this. What would Poe do?” Oh! And there was an idea. With a furtive glance towards the door he crawled over to Poe’s locker and pulled it open. There, neatly stacked on the shelves were Poe’s own clothes. Finn twisted his head, trying to get a good look at how it was done and then he shuffled back to his own side and made his first attempt at folding. 

Ten minutes later he’d given himself full points for effort but docked for poor execution, but most of the clothes were safely stowed away. There wasn’t quite enough room and he wasn’t quite sure what he should be doing with the excess. Maybe you were only supposed to have as many clothes as would fit in a locker. He looked at what was left over, including the jacket, and suddenly remembered that he was standing in borrowed clothes. If he took those off and put some of his new ones on, then problem solved. Patting himself on the back for solving this apparently intractable problem, Finn stripped down.

“Nice greeting,” said Poe, choosing that moment to walk through the door. “We’re going with invisible clothes in the Republic now, are we? Fashion. I can never keep up.”

“Hilarious,” said Finn, unable to stop the grin that spread across his face. “I was just giving your stuff back. Thanks for the loan.” He held out Poe’s jacket.

“Oh. Yeah. No problem.” Poe reached out and took it, but Finn’s fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. “You have to actually let go.”

“Sorry.” Finn forced his fingers to relax. It wasn’t like he needed to hang on to Poe’s jacket now he had one the same, but some part of him was saying different. 

“And now probably put some clothes on or I can’t take you on the boat I never promised.”

Finn lit up, distracted. “Cool!” He cobbled together an outfit under Poe’s watchful eye. “You’re laughing,” he said.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“It doesn’t count as laughing if there’s no sound.”

“You’re laughing with your _eyes_ ,” Finn accused.

“Well, that, yeah.”

“Did I do this right?” Finn looked down at the grey sweater he’d layered over a black short-sleeved tunic, the khaki heavy duty pants and work boots with laces neatly tied. 

“I was hoping it would be a disaster, but no, you did good.” Poe gave him an appreciative sweep of the eyes. “You did great. You pass Clothes Basic.”

“Go team Finn,” said Finn. “Where did all this come from anyway?”

“Gift from a grateful New Republic,” Poe told him. “There are plenty of planets the First Order didn’t blow up and it’s not like no one noticed you turning up baggage free.”

“Did you know?”

“I knew they’d sent a holo-projection of you offworld, but I didn’t know why. Obviously this is the answer. By the way, don’t let me forget to show you the way of the triple-fold, it’ll change your life.”

“Will it though?”

“Nah, but it’ll make your stuff easier to ransack. You ready to go boating?”

“I was born ready,” said Finn. “Let’s go.”

***

They took a speeder down to the shore, Poe barely twisting the throttle.

“You’re playing it safe,” said Finn over Poe’s shoulder. “That’s not like you.”

“It’s exactly like me. It’s tactical.”

“Tactical?”

“Trust me.”

Finn, hands on Poe’s waist to keep himself steady, wanted to rest his chin on Poe’s shoulder, slide his arms around him, tell him, _yeah, I do_ and _speed up_. He didn’t. What if that crossed some sort of boundary he didn’t know existed like with Jess yesterday? Safer to observe for now. 

Grass resolved into dirt, resolved into mottled pebbles as they reached the shore, the wide, blue ocean stretching far beyond it, dark shapes of distant land rising up at random intervals to the horizon. Finn practically fell off the speeder before Poe had executed a graceful stop, running down to the water’s edge with a delighted whoop. He crouched by the water’s edge, watching the waves foam and bubble over the pebbles, and reached out a hand to dabble his fingers in it. It was cold. He licked the tip of his index finger and pulled a face. He wouldn’t be making that mistake again any time soon.

Finn stood up and turned around to see Poe watching him from a jetty a few feet away. “Salty!” he called.

“I know.” Poe tilted his head side to side.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t figure out if I feel bad for you because add one to the list of your never have I evers, or unbelievably jealous because you get to have so many first times that are already way behind me. Not that other times aren’t great, don’t get me wrong, but there’s something special about firsts that you always remember.”

“Like your first ship.”

“Yeah.”

Souvenirs, Poe had said. Finn bent and picked up a pebble, shoving it into his pocket and went to join Poe.

The boat was moored to the end of the jetty. It was small and wooden with two benches set across it either side of the middle where a mast rose up, sail stowed neatly away. Poe climbed in first and held out a hand to Finn.

“Steady,” he said. “We’re not on solid ground.”

Finn took Poe’s hand and put one foot in the boat. It rocked under his weight. “Oh, shit,” he said, grabbing for Poe and launching himself forward so he didn’t wind up doing the splits on the spot. The boat swung wildly and Poe went down, something crunching against one of the benches. Finn, still holding on, followed, landing half across Poe and half out of the boat, his face perilously close to the water. He got his hands to the side and pushed himself up, the back of his head colliding with Poe’s chin as Poe leaned in for the rescue. They both yelped and then there was a confusion of limbs as they attempted to both disentangle themselves and check the other one out for damage inflicted. 

There was a moment where Poe’s hand was on the back of Finn’s head and Finn’s fingers rested against Poe’s chin where the air seemed to still and Finn couldn’t even hear the soft lapping of the waves. In that moment Finn’s heart gaped open, full of a longing that seemed like it could never be satisfied. It made him want to throw up. Or maybe that was the recent head injury talking. In confusion he scrambled away from Poe onto the other bench.

“You know how to make this thing go?”

“Told you, buddy, I can fly anything and this is just a different kind of flying.”

“You want me to do anything?”

“Sit still and try not to fall out, okay?”

“Copy, Black Leader.”

Finn watched in silence as Poe readied the boat. Before long he had untied the mooring rope and they were moving, creeping along at first, but then the sail cracked and billowed as it caught the wind and they picked up speed. Finn shifted to face forward, draping himself over the prow of the boat, hands cutting the water like blades. Cool air, thick with salt spray, rolled over his face and he whooped again.

“This. Is. _Awesome_!”

“Remember what I said about falling out,” called Poe. 

“Yeah, yeah,” said Finn and turned his head to watch the land gliding past. From out on the water you couldn’t see any of the base at all, only low rising cliffs and jagged rocks that stood out in front as if protecting them. Small seabirds wheeled over a dark patch of water near the shore, calling to each other in voices that seemed too large for their size. 

It was a miracle, being here. Apart from that terrible forced march on Jakku, this was the most alone that Finn had ever been. The First Order had always taught them better together, strength in numbers, being alone was to be feared. Even when he slept Finn had always been surrounded. This--open sky, open water, weak warmth of the sun on his face, sharp cold of the ocean on his fingers--this was the kind of solitude he could get used to, even if he wasn’t entirely solo. Anyway, Finn told himself, Poe didn’t count. The logic of that would fall apart as soon as he glanced at it so he stopped thinking and just let himself be.

After a while they rounded a cliff into a sheltered bay. Poe steered them a little way into shore and then hauled in the sail, dropping anchor. At the splash of metal hitting water Finn sat up, shocked out of his semi-daze. 

“What are we doing?”

Poe pulled out a container from under his bench and opened it. He took out a flask. “Caf?”

Finn became aware of just how cold his fingers were. They ached at the thought of wrapping themselves around a hot drink. “Yes, please.”

Poe poured and handed him a cup.

Three sips in Finn thought to ask, “Hey, where’s BB-8 at?”

“BB-8 doesn’t do water. I left him doing some diagnostics on our ship. He wasn’t thrilled about it, but what’re you gonna do?”

“Did it take long to learn binary?”

“Oh, hell, no, I can’t speak binary. That stuff’s way beyond my organic brain.”

“But you always seem to understand what BB-8 means.”

“Years of practice. You kind of get a feel for it. And BB-8’s more expressive than most astromechs. We’re simpatico, you get me?”

Finn remembered how he’d managed to hold an entire, frantic conversation with the little droid and that had been when they’d first met. 

“Yeah.” He frowned. “Rey definitely understood him, though.”

“Now that should have been a giant clue,” Poe said. “Shame Solo didn’t pick up on it.”

“Clue to what?”

“That she was Force-sensitive. Understanding binary, it’s a gift, it’s rare, and you can almost always track it back to a Force user.”

“I did not know that.”

“No one is surprised,” said Poe and threw him a sandwich. “Remind me to thank Rey when I see her.” He glanced away briefly. “We were both...kinda preoccupied before she left.”

“Thank her for what?”

“Taking care of my little buddy so well. There was nothing in it for her and she did it anyway. I like her style.”

Finn grinned. That was his Rey. He had a sudden panicked thought. “She does know we moved the base, right? She’s not going to turn up with the Falcon at D’Qar and wonder where we’ve all gone?” If she thought she’d been abandoned again...Finn squeezed his sandwich so hard that the filling dripped down his sweater. 

“No, buddy, it’s okay,” Poe reassured him. “Command are in contact. She knows where we are.”

Finn looked down at the ruin of his sweater. “That didn’t take long to mess up. Crap. Will it come out?”

“Probably,” said Poe. “And if it doesn’t you can have one of mine.”

“Thanks.”

They were silent for a little while, chewing on the food Poe kept bringing out of the container. Then Poe said, “You miss her a lot, don’t you?”

“Rey? Yeah.” Finn groped for the right words. “When I got you off the _Finalizer_ I was just this stormtrooper, yeah? I mean, we bonded and all, but it was all running and shooting and, you know, _crashing_ and there wasn’t much time to notice much about you but your skills.”

“And my cool jacket,” Poe interrupted.

“And your cool jacket. So I thought you were dead and that sucked, but I had to keep going, keep running. Then I met Rey. And we stole the Falcon and she looked at me like she was looking at _Finn_ , like I was a real person for the first time. On Takodana I wanted to run and it hurt her. Like she couldn’t believe I wouldn’t do the right thing.”

He put the empty cup on the bench beside him. “I don’t think I really got it until these past few days. I thought because there were always people around that was enough. But there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely. I told you how it was for us, how we were always stuck together but we weren’t supposed to connect. Rey, she was both: lonely and alone. Seems to me there’s more than one way of saving a life.”

Poe gripped Finn’s knee. “I wish I could do something for you,” he said. “I’d tear the galaxy apart to find your family if I thought it would work. Do you know anything about them?”

Finn shook his head. “Nothing. Not even the star system I’m from.”

“If I ever come across that Captain Phasma of yours I’m going to take her helmet off, all right? With her head still in it. Unless you want to do the honors, in which case, hey, be my guest.”

Poe’s expression was grim and determined and Finn was struck with the urge to wipe it from his face, to have the usual laughing-eyed Poe back again. He liked pretty much all varieties of Poe, but that one was his particular favorite. He was beginning to realize that he’d do almost anything to coax that smile from him, the one that said, “You’re all right with me.” The one that sent a fizz up Finn’s spine that could be a microbot party or could be something completely different. It made him want to be smart enough to turn his lack of experience into finely-tuned quips, or do something so spectacularly dumb that Poe wouldn’t be able to resist laughing at him. For a second he thought about tossing himself into the sea, but swimming lessons were not high on the stormtrooper agenda: it was sink or...well, sink. 

He went for distraction instead, the smile could come out later. “What’s in the other box?”

Poe blinked, face smoothing as he turned away, hauling out the second box. “Ah, now, this is the part where you learn a valuable life-skill, youngling. I swear the Jedi must have fishing on their training schedule because there is a whole bunch of patience required. No one is as good at standing still as a Master Jedi, or so I’ve heard.” He flicked open the clasps and lifted the lid, chatting to Finn as he clipped and screwed rods together, threading them with a thin line.

Finn watched, not really listening. He was looking at Poe’s hands, nimble fingers working quickly and confidently. Those same fingers tended to Finn’s back, maneuvered ships through the air with ease, folded corners of sheets so tight you could bounce a credit chip off of them. They were long and slim and always busy. Finn wondered what if, when those fingers were done tending to his wound, they slid away to other parts of him, to run the length of his shoulder blades, to bracket his hips. What if they slid over Finn’s hand and pushed between his own fingers, curling into his palm? Why was there no caf left in his cup when he was so thirsty?

He thought he knew what this was, this pull towards Poe--a sign that his body was healing, that maybe normal functioning would one day be resumed--but there was nothing to compare it to. Everything surrounding sex had always been so clinical, there was never any space to think about what parts of you tingled or buzzed or twisted into knots. No space to figure out why. And besides, Finn had been brought up alongside everyone he was permitted to have intercourse with. Sure, some had, let’s just say more pleasing features than others, but he knew them inside and out, could have mapped the freckles of some of his unit mates by heart. There was nothing new there, nothing exciting; he’d seen every single one of them at their best and at their worst. Add to that the fact they were taught that any getting off was to be done in the most efficient way possible. For the glory of the Order or whatever you practically had to clock in and clock out to make sure you were following their schedule. There was no time to stop and smell the armpits, or to do anything except exchange perfunctory information: I like it slow, it’s easier if you do it from behind, punch me in the face first. (That one Finn definitely found a little out there.) He’d never even really thought about what his own needs were beyond simple getting off. It was simpler to go along with whatever the other person wanted. This, whatever it was with Poe, was a little outside Finn’s wheelhouse. 

“You okay?” asked Poe with a sharp edge that cut through Finn’s abstraction. “Are you hurting?”

“I’m good. Why?”

“Good,” Poe said and flicked him on the nose.

“What was that for?!” Finn rubbed at the stinging place.

“Not paying attention.”

“I was totally-” Finn changed his tactic halfway through the sentence, pulling his best hangdog look. “I was really not paying attention.”

And there was that smile he’d been after. He curled his toes in triumph.

If the numbers of fish caught defined a fishing expedition then Finn’s inaugural one was a roaring failure. Poe blamed Finn’s inability to listen and Finn blamed a lack of fish. “What would we have done with them anyway?” Finn asked. “Throw them back,” Poe told him. That seemed inefficient, Finn thought, but maybe it was another quirk of life away from the Order.

But if the actual fishing hadn’t produced anything then the act of it most definitely had. Sure there was a whole lot of sitting still and doing nothing at all, but between the rocking of the boat and Poe’s low humming of tunes Finn had never heard before, he was lulled into near sleep within a few minutes. His brain emptied of everything except immediate sensations: the tug of the current on the line, the hard wood underneath him, the salt tang in the air, the nagging insistence of his back wound, Poe’s tuneful voice fading in and out as the wind shifted and blew it in different directions. And somewhere, if he listened in just the right way a faint line of something else, something new and unrecognizable, but joyful and full of light and hope. Finn let it float through his mind, knowing that if he tried to catch it the sensation would vanish, and he had no way of knowing if he would ever find it again.

That night, Finn lay in the dark curled on his side, listening to Poe breathe. The steady rhythm of it told Finn he wasn’t yet asleep, but soon would be. 

“That was the best day of my life,” he said.

The breath faltered, sheets rustled and Poe said, “I’m glad, buddy,” and then nothing more. And maybe Finn had been wrong about the sleeping thing because Poe’s voice was thick as if he’d only that second woken up.

Finn reached up to the locker and fumbled the pebble he’d retrieved from his pocket into his hand, dropping it a scant couple of inches from his face on the pillow. He stroked it with a fingertip, the smoothness of it reminding him of the ease with which the boat had travelled over the water. Once this stone had been part of a great rock, he thought, an indistinguishable part of a whole. Time and the persistence of the tides had worn it free and then it had been one of a kind among millions of pebbles on the beach. Now, it was Finn’s, separate from its fellows for the first time. He wrapped his hand around it. It was silly to get sentimental over a pebble--he must be in a real mess to be identifying with a rock--but he didn’t care. This was his and he was keeping it, the first non-functional thing he’d ever owned. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Poe said, “See?” and laughed. Finn grinned, tightened his grip, and fell asleep.

***

The following day Poe was back at work and Finn was left alone, another six days until he could even think of reporting for duty. Everyone else on the base was in a constant state of alert readiness. Obviously the best way forward was to attack the First Order while they’d been weakened, and Finn had heard plenty of mutterings about avenging Han’s death too. But they had to wait for Rey and Skywalker to complete whatever classified mission they were undertaking before any plan could be developed. Not only that, but the X-wing fleet had been severely depleted. Besides mourning the loss of friends and colleagues, the fleet had to be rebuilt and it wasn’t going to be easy. The Resistance was low on funds and the loss of the New Republic fleet had put remaining shipyards on high alert to produce replacements as fast as they could. Negotiations were an ongoing concern.

It seemed like there was a whole lot of hurrying up and waiting because there were so many things to do and at the same time no things at all. There were only so many times you could run drills, check over the mechanical functioning of the remaining X-wing fleet and groundships and count the ammo. Command were constantly collating intel, diplomatic flights were frequent, but many of the rest of the Resistance were living in a state of suspended frustration. 

So it was with some guilt that Finn set off on his own to explore the surrounding area. He figured he’d go as far as his legs wanted to take him and then sit a while, admire the view, maybe look at the holobook on Galactic history Poe had sourced for him. It was a chilly morning and Finn put on the sleeveless coat over the sweater he hadn’t managed to ruin. He filled his pockets with food, strapping a water flask borrowed from Poe to his belt, and set off for the trees that lined the ridge that rose up a short walk from the main base. From a distance the foliage seemed like a shimmering sea of orange-gold, but as he neared they resolved into endless variations of color and shape, some interspersed with brown, spiky cases, others with branches weighted down with golden fruit. Finn wanted to touch it all, wanted to scramble up the nearest tree and pluck the fruit for himself. He had his hand wrapped around a low-hanging branch, rough bark scraping against his palm, before he thought of the shit Poe and Doctor Kalonia would give him if this went wrong. 

Instead he got to his hands and knees and scrambled through the undergrowth until he managed to dig out two fruit that were only a little bruised. He shoved one into a pocket and took a large bite of the other crunching through firm flesh. The flavor burst over his tongue like a sunrise, sweet and juicy and full of promise, so far from the grey rations he’d been raised on that had been precisely detailed for optimum caloric and nutritional content. Finn couldn’t help but laugh, juice dribbling down his chin. He dashed it away with the back of his hand and took another bite. He was halfway through when he noticed he was being watched. A little way ahead in a clearing was an animal. It was about half the height of Finn, standing on its hind legs. The animal was covered in a sleek grey, fur, with a ruff of white fur around its neck and edging large, pointy ears. It had bright, black eyes trained on Finn and a small, pink nose that twitched almost constantly, making its long whiskers quiver. The animal held its small forearms with paws crossed as if it were waiting for something.

Finn looked down at the fruit in his hand. “Hey, li’l buddy,” he said in a low voice. “You want this? There’s plenty more, you know?” 

He padded about with one hand, not taking his eyes off the creature. It seemed friendly, but who could tell? His hand closed around another fruit and he tossed it towards his new companion, making sure it landed well in front. The animal half-hopped, half-skipped towards it, reaching down with its little arms, piercing it with one long claw and scooping it towards its mouth. Half the fruit seemed to fly out in all directions and it chewed with such ferocity Finn was plenty glad all his vital parts were well out of reach. There was that faint thread again, the one he’d sensed out on the boat and it seemed to stretch between him and his animal friend, glowing brightly as if to tell Finn there was no danger here, no need for fear. 

The furry creature finished and hopped two steps towards Finn, nose twitching even more violently than before. 

“Oh yeah? You want some more? You must really like your vitamins, huh?” He found another fruit and tossed that, too. 

Five fruit later, the animal was close enough for Finn to touch, practically eye to eye as Finn knelt before it. This close he could see the mottling on the grey fur, the patches of dirt ground into the white, smell the sweetness of the fruit mixed with something way less pleasant. He knew he was probably reading into it, but its half-lidded eyes looked almost kind, as if the creature were doing Finn a favor by relieving him of this troublesome fruit. 

Reach out, the thread in his mind told him. Reach out and connect. He shifted his weight and began to extend his hand, taking care to make no sudden movements and to keep in the animal’s eyeline. He was a scant inch from it when there was a flurry overhead and a flight of jewel-colored birds scattered into the sky. With a bound, the animal turned on its heels and in seconds had vanished into the trees. Finn plopped down onto the ground, cross-legged and disappointed. But the disappointment lasted only seconds before Finn was laughing again, face lifted to the sky and yelling to the birds, “How cool was that?”

They squawked back in what Finn was pretty sure was some bird version of an irritated, “Get the hell out of our home, krilhead.” 

“Noted!” he called and scrabbled to his feet, brushing the dirt off his knees. He’d go a little further and see if any other nature wanted to introduce itself. Not too far, though, Poe had threatened an embarrassment of search parties if he stayed out after dark. Apparently some of the night wildlife had a vicious streak and no one was letting Finn near the armory yet. 

He cut his return fine, the bright blue of the sky faded and streaked as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over it before he made it back to quarters. Poe was resting on his cot, arms behind his head. He sat up as soon as Finn came in.

“Good day?”

“ _Amazing_. There was this animal and I fed it and the leaves were all these incredible colors and there was this fruit and I ate it and probably I should have asked first but it was _so good_ and then I might have tasted this sticky stuff that was coming out of a tree and that tasted how the stuff we used to clean the latrines with smelled so that wasn’t good _at all_.” Finn took a breath, noticing that Poe was watching him with the same expression as back on the jetty. “ _What?_ ”

“This,” said Poe shaking his hands towards Finn. “Just. I love…” He dropped his hands and shrugged. “This. Listen, you want to go for a drink and tell me more about your day? I wanna hear all about it.”

“Sure. Let me just…” Finn unzipped his windbreaker and checked his pockets, taking out one of the spiky nut cases, a bright red leaf and a tuft of grey fur he’d found left on a thorn bush. He put them with the stone on his locker.

“Oh, yeah, you’re definitely a clutter guy.”

“Nearly forgot,” said Finn. “This is for you.” He fished out the second fruit he’d foraged for and tossed it at Poe. “Didn’t kill me so it probably won’t kill you.”

“A gift! See, you didn’t even need anyone to tell you that part. You’re growing as a person.”

“Huh?”

Poe indicated the items on Finn’s locker. “Souvenirs, that you keep for yourself.” He took a bite of the fruit, chewing with approval. “Gifts,” he said through a mouthful of fruit, “are what you bring back for other people.” He swallowed. “So you can share the experience with someone who wasn’t there.”

“But I just told you about it.”

“Right. But I can’t touch words. I can, however, touch this sun-apple. With my mouth.” How Poe managed to look smug at the same time as taking a bite as big as half the sun-apple, Finn would never know.

“Sun-apple, right. Noted.” Souvenirs, gifts, sun-apples. He was gonna need some sort of datapad to keep this all organized.

Later, after several of those unidentified blue drinks, Finn lamented his missed opportunity to stroke the new buddy he’d made.

“You know what you need?” said Poe, waving his cup with such enthusiasm that liquid sloshed over the side.

“What?”

“A pet. You need a pet.”

“What’s a pet?”

“An animal that belongs to you that you can feed and maybe take for walks if it’s got legs and won’t eat through a lead. And you can stroke it as much as you want.”

“For real?”

“Oh, yeah. Let me see.” Poe leaned back and regarded Finn with slightly unfocused eyes. Finn wasn’t sure if it was him or Poe that was swaying. Maybe it was both of them. “Hmm, I see you as a tooka kind of guy. Cute, cuddly, smile as wide as its head. Yeah, I’d say that was a perfect fit.”

“Can I have one?”

Poe rearranged his face into what Finn suspected was supposed to be a sorrowful expression. “Maybe not in the middle of a war.” He brightened. “I promise I’ll get you a pet the second we get the First Order for good, okay?”

Finn stood up.

“What are you doing?”

“There’s stroking furry animals at stake. Let’s get to work!”

Laughing, Poe reached out and grabbed Finn’s wrist, yanking him down again. “Damp down your power core, buddy. No one’s taking out the FO tonight.”

“I dunno. Get my hopes up just to smack ‘em down. Aren’t we supposed to be friends?”

“We are.” Poe’s voice held an edge of warmth to it that made Finn hold still, aware of his pulse beating hard against the grip Poe kept on his wrist. 

Part of Finn wanted to pull away, look away, but another part wanted nothing more than to keep his eyes on Poe, to let the crackling thrilling through him take over, to figure out what this was, what it could become.

And then a flagon was slapped down on the table in between them. Poe let go so fast that Finn almost ricocheted backwards and Snap sat down, scraping the chair so loudly that it cleared Finn’s head of any lingering buzz. When he snuck a glance at Poe, he seemed to be totally interested in Snap’s thoughts on the drawbacks of current fuel technology. Finn picked up his cup and drained it, spluttering as a drop went down the wrong way. Nothing had happened that couldn’t be explained away by the effects of alcohol distorting his perceptions. He was a cheap date, Poe had already told him, carefully monitoring his intake so he wouldn’t wind up undoing all the good work the doctor had done. He stared into the empty cup. Nothing to see here. Nothing at all.

***

“Are you sure this is all true?” Finn waved the holobook at Poe. They were in their quarters, Poe finishing up some work on a datapad while Finn ploughed through a potted Galactic history. He still had a couple of days before he was due to report back to the doctor and he was getting a head start on the studying.

“As true as any history book. It’s not like we can escape our own biases, but facts are facts. Why?”

“No one figured out that the top Sith guy and the Supreme Chancellor were the same person? No one at all?”

“Apparently not.”

“But the Jedi Council didn’t even trust him, it says here. Like, no one thought they should maybe investigate?”

Poe shrugged. “What can I tell you? It probably seems easier when you see it all laid out in a book.”

“It seems _stupider_. I mean, I am getting that the rise of the Empire was a bad thing for lots of people, but it seems like a lot could have been avoided if the Jedi had been better at problem-solving.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, buddy.”

Finn frowned and went back to reading.

***

It was a regular pattern by now, Poe shaking Finn awake before the final strike from Ren’s lightsaber. This time something changed. Snow and ash fell on Finn’s face as he desperately thrust and parried, trying to remember his training, trying not to see the ragdoll heap of Rey’s body on the ground. A light shimmered somewhere, bright and strong. He swung and missed, Kylo Ren sneered, turning away, the flare of his cape momentarily blinding Finn. When his vision cleared, he was no longer standing in the snow, but watching Ren stalk away down a corridor on board _Finalizer_. He charged after him, but the lightsaber in his own hand disappeared and his vision morphed to the filtered senses of his HUD: he was back in his stormtrooper armor. Horrified, Finn slid to a halt as Kylo Ren waved his hand over a panel next to a door. The door hummed open and Ren went through it. 

Without even realizing he was moving, Finn followed, narrowly avoiding being crushed by the closing door. 

“Where is it?” said Kylo Ren.

It took Finn a moment to recognize what was happening. Ren’s tall body obscured the person shackled into the chair. All he could see was fingers clenched tight and one cuff of a brown jacket.

“Poe!” he yelled and ran to the chair, fumbling at the restraints. To his utter horror, his fingers slid right through them. He tried again. The same thing happened. “Poe, look at me, are you okay?”

Poe did not look. He didn’t even seem to register Finn’s presence. He stared, wild-eyed, into Ren’s masked face, sweat and blood matting his hair to his head. 

“The Resistance will not be intimidated by you,” Poe spat between gritted teeth.

“Where is it?”

Kylo Ren stretched his hand towards Poe’s head, steady as a rock. Poe began to shake with the effort of keeping Ren out. Finn could almost see it, the flow from Kylo Ren’s fingertips, thousands of microscopic, probing tendrils penetrating Poe’s mind, curling around his thoughts and secrets, dragging them out into the open. Poe shook harder as he tried to resist, knuckles blanched white, chest rising and falling with the rapidity of his breathing. It was no use Finn could tell; Ren only pressed all the harder.

He could see the moment that Poe broke. Watched the defiance in his eyes wiped out by pain as he screamed. And then he pressed his lips together so hard they became a thin, white line, but it was too late. Ren dropped his hand and Poe fell back against the backrest with a dull thud, eyes fluttering closed.

“I like it better when there’s some resistance,” said Ren. “It makes the breaking so much more...gratifying.” And then he vanished.

Finn blinked, tugging at his helmet. It wouldn’t come off. He started to panic, but was distracted by a moan from Poe. 

“Poe! _Poe_!”

But Poe still couldn’t hear him. He opened his eyes, red-rimmed and glistening. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I failed. I’m sorry.”

No, thought Finn and yanked again at his helmet. This time it slid off like butter and Finn found himself sitting up in bed, holding an invisible helmet in front of him. He was out of bed and kneeling by Poe in one swift move. The soft blue glow of a holocube illuminated Poe’s face enough for Finn to see it twisted in an echo of the expression of pain he had seen in Poe’s nightmare, sweat beading his forehead. Finn took Poe’s shoulder and shook, Poe so rigid and tense that his whole body followed the movement. Poe muttered, but slept on, eyelids flickering.

“Wake up,” said Finn in a low voice. “C’mon, Poe. Wake up.” He shook him again. This time Poe’s eyes opened, wide and angry. He slapped his hand on Finn’s, jerking him away as he scrambled up.

“Poe, it’s me! It’s Finn!” Finn winced against the crushing grip on his fingers. 

“Shit,” said Poe, dropping Finn’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Finn shook his head, tucking his mangled hand under his armpit and pretending like hell it didn’t hurt at all. “Lights on,” he commanded and squinted in the sudden glare. “Not a problem. Are you okay?”

Poe gave him a helpless smile and a shrug Finn could barely see.

“Is this the first time?”

Poe shrugged again. Something opened inside Finn. Like he had Poe tangled in a tractor beam and was scanning his emotions. He could sense it all: the shame, the anger, the distress, the fear. It hung over Poe like a thick, grey fog, clouding the bright, vibrant core of him. Finn wanted to rip away the badness with his bare hands, to let him shine the way he was always supposed to. 

“This whole time? Why didn’t you say? No, don’t. I know.” Finn poked Poe in the chest. “You can’t take care of me and ignore yourself.”

“I can.”

“Why? Because you feel guilty? Because you couldn’t resist Kylo Ren? There’s a reason he’s one of the most feared people in the galaxy. And you may be a hotshot pilot and one of the bravest people I know, but I’m sorry, that doesn’t make you invincible. And it doesn’t make you any less for being outmatched. C’mon, they even softened you up for him first. He nearly killed me and, sure I have nightmares about it, but they’re nightmares about him doing it right this time. I’m not guilty I didn’t take him down. I did what I could and so did you.”

Finn thought he saw a change in the fog surrounding Poe, a shimmer penetrating it that he couldn’t see before. He tried to follow it, knew there had to be a way if he could just...and then there was a snap and there was no fog any more, no bright center, only Poe, disheveled and tired, gripping the edges of the bed for support. 

“Do you need a hug right now? Because I could use a hug,” said Finn. “I’m running an overall deficit here. Help a guy out.”

Poe gave a weak laugh, shaking his head, but he opened his arms and Finn didn’t need a second invitation. 

Chin tucked over Poe’s shoulder, Finn said, “You gotta tell me, okay? Or if you can’t, then pick someone. General Organa, Snap, someone. BB-8, even. You know he doesn’t hold it against you. Don’t carry this alone.”

Poe’s arms tightened around Finn’s back. “I can’t remember what it was like before you came,” he said. “That’s weird, right?”

Finn stopped himself cracking a joke about Force mind tricks. Too soon. Way too soon. “A little weird,” he agreed instead. It might even be--it wasn’t like Finn had a solid grasp on Rest of the Galaxy normal anyway.

Back in his own bed, on the verge of falling asleep, it occurred to Finn that he’d been expecting some pain from the hug but there’d been none at all. He rolled onto his back. Still nothing. He smiled to himself in the dark. He’d go see the doctor in the morning.


	3. Part 3

“Hold up, hold up, hold up.”

“More historical criticism?”

Finn flicked at a button and a rotating hologram of Wicket W. Warrick--the Ewok who had befriended Princess Leia prior to the Battle of Endor--floated above his holobook. 

“That,” Finn said as if it were all the explanation needed. As far as he was concerned, it was.

Poe, tying his bootlaces, looked up. He appeared to beg to differ. “An Ewok. You have a problem with an Ewok.”

“Look at it.” Finn waved his hand in front of the fuzzy being. The hologram flickered. “It’s so…”

“So what?”

“These are the guys that helped the Rebellion defeat Darth Vader? Darth Vader and the _Emperor_? They look like a Wookiee didn’t get enough to eat as a kid and got its growth stunted. They’re fuzzy. They have _spears_. Made from _wood_. And they took down scout walkers and speeders? I mean, this is ridiculous.”

“Don’t underestimate an Ewok,” said Poe. “It’ll bite your hand off soon as look at you. Wait, how did _you_ think the Empire was defeated?”

“They didn’t say anything about Ewoks. Mostly it was all-” -he straightened his shoulders and recited in monotone- “The great and mighty Empire met its end with the destruction of the second Death Star and the slaughter of the once unstoppable Sith Lords: Darth Sidious, also known as Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader, once known as Anakin Skywalker. They were defeated by a Rebel Army composed of the galaxy’s detritus, those whose selfish desires meant they balked against the Empire’s gracious hand.” He stopped chanting. “See? Nothing furry in there at all.”

Poe stared at him. “You remember all of that?” 

“I wish I didn’t. The Fall of the Empire was a Key Strand in our education program. We had to know it so as not to repeat it. They made us study it every year. We had to be able to recite all the events and then the Three Lessons. There were rumors about what happened to cadets who got it wrong, so we made sure we never did. I could do it now if you like?”

“I don’t.” Poe took the holobook from Finn and swiped through it before flicking at the same button. Wicket fizzled out to be replaced with a laughing young woman in a flight suit, her helmet tucked under her arm. 

“Who’s that?”

“That’s my mom, Shara Bey. She flew at the Battle of Endor, so I guess she was one of the galaxy’s detritus, huh?”

“I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t sweat it, I know. I just wanted to show you, that’s all.”

“Thank you,” said Finn, watching Poe whose eyes never left the hologram of his mother. “You look like her.”

“People say so.” Poe shut down the hologram. “I used to hate it when I was a kid, especially after she died.” He faded out, but Finn sensed there was more.

“But now?” he prompted.

Poe turned towards him, his gaze a little distant as if he were seeing something past Finn’s shoulder. “Now I’m glad of it. It means I always have her with me. If I want to see her smile I only have to go look in the mirror.”

Finn took back his holobook. Whose smile did he share? Were they still alive? Who was his face tying him to and did they know that somewhere he was wearing it too? Did they look in the mirror and hope that their eyes were reflected out there in the wide galaxy, that one day they would meet in a village or a town and know each other because of that reflection? Finn swallowed hard. This wasn’t even enough to be a hope. He would be the worst kind of fool to think otherwise. He cleared his throat.

“I have to go to work. You can tell me more about how fuzzballs saved the galaxy later.”

“Copy that,” said Poe and got on with tying his laces.

***

“Drop, little man. Fifty pushups now.”

Without even thinking, Finn did exactly as he was told, his mind sliding into the passive state that had been cultivated in his days in the First Order. He had no idea why he was being asked to do this, simply that he must.

“48...49...50” he counted out and stood to attention, panting and warm in his heavy jumpsuit. 

“Very good. Do you know why this person commanded you this way?”

“No, ma’am.”

The Barabel made a strange sound that Finn figured must be the sissing Poe had warned him about. He made sure his face was set firmly in neutral position and waited. Don’t mess up. Don’t mess up.

“This person is not ma’am. This person is Bela Raine. Finn will address me by this.”

“Yes, m- Yes, Bela Raine.”

“The chain of command is everything. All must know how to follow an order without question or hesitation. That person has shown promise, which is good. However.” Bela raised one knifepoint claw. “Blind obedience at all times makes a soldier only as good as a soldier’s instructor. This person encourages you to question, Finn No Clan. This is how excellence is made. Do you understand?”

Refusing to let his mind get tripped up on “No Clan”, Finn nodded and then a thought occurred to him. “How will I know when to ask questions and when to follow orders?”

Bela Raine made the sissing sound again, her head swooping towards Finn, staring into his face with glittering eyes. “That person will know, little man, if that person holds value to life.”

“Great,” said Finn. “I think?”

***

“You’ve been paired with Bela Raine?” Poe had flashed a grin. “Nice choice. Look, I know you’re not used to non-humans, so can I give you some advice?”

“Please.” Someone had pointed out his new instructor as he left Ops. Even standing a distance away she was imposing: a Barabel--a tall reptilian with dark grey scales and red eyes. She was eating something out of a packet and when she opened her mouth to tip the remainder in, Finn saw her long, sharp teeth and made the decision that he was going to stay on the right side of her no matter what.

“Don’t stare, don’t piss her off, don’t apologize if you do and that sissing noise she makes? It’s up to you to figure out if she’s laughing, crying or something in between.”

“I’m sorry, what? No apologizing?”

“Yeah, you’re doomed. Barabel don’t do apologies. In their culture it’s an insult, and if they’re already pissed at you an ‘oops sorry’ is like oil on their fire.”

“Why?”

“I do not know. They’re a pretty fierce warrior race, maybe apologizing is weakness to them.”

“That’s dumb.”

Poe had held up his hands. “Hey, I’m not the one who invented Barabel culture. It works for them. Roll with it. They think babies that come out of vaginas instead of eggs are gross, but they’re not telling us we should all do it their way.”

Finn nodded and started a new section of his mental notepad: No apologizing, figure out the sissing, no staring.

“But what do I do if I mess up, if I can’t say sorry?”

“What does anyone do if they make a mistake?”

“Don’t do it again?”

“No, idiot. Fix it, learn from it, move on.”

“Ohhh,” said Finn with some relief. “I can do that.”

“I know you can, buddy,” Poe clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I know you can.”

***

Finn took to some parts of his training like a Mon Calamari to water. Bela Raine made him study schematics and uses of weaponry and their vehicles until he could recite parts in his sleep. She ran him through sims of battle situations both on the air and on the ground. There was something incredibly satisfying about taking out a bunch of TIE fighters, even if he always got blown up in the end.

“Boom. Finn is dead and so is everyone else on the ship. Again.” Bela Raine swatted him with her tail. 

“I thought I had it that time.”

“Thought is not good enough. That person needs to be faster.”

“I’m _trying_.” 

“Trying will not save lives. Move. Watch.”

Finn watched as Bela Raine took the controls and restarted the sim. Quad lasers fired with perfect precision as the TIE fighters tried, and failed, to damage the ship. Finn remembered his first real encounters with live ammo, how he’d been so scared he could hardly see the targeting display and how he’d gotten off more than one lucky shot. Bela Raine, by contrast, was a living embodiment of grace under fire, calm and precise in every movement. Granted, Finn didn’t know if Barabels even _could_ sweat, but there was no sign that the pressure of the situation was bearing on her at all.

“There,” said Bela Raine, turning towards him as the last TIE fighter shattered into smithereens. “That is how it is done.”

“I don’t get it,” said Finn. “I don’t understand how. I’ve compensated for delays in the targeting equipment, the potential trajectory of the lasers, the reaction times of the pilots. I still can’t take out more than half without taking a fatal hit.”

“Do you have a question, little man?”

This was the part of his training Finn still had trouble with. Asking stuff like, “Do you want me to press this button?” or, “Paired or individual shots?” was a level he could manage. Anything else seemed insubordinate and he was a kid trembling in front of a raging teacher all over again. “You do not ask, FN-2187, you will only _receive_.”

Still, he needed to know and so he pushed at the image in his mind, forcing it out of his way. “How do you do it? How do I get to be a deadshot like you?”

Bela Raine’s claw clicked off her scales as she tapped her head. “It comes from here. There is conscious thought and then there is what lies beneath. This is where the body and the mind become fluid and in harmony and all is one. Humans are focused too much on what they see or hear or think. It is hard for humans to find a way into this other way of doing, but some have achieved it.”

“What do I have to do?”

“Stop thinking. Feel. The equipment serves that person, not that person the equipment. Use it.”

“I don’t know how to stop thinking.” And now he was thinking about it, Finn realized that he was always accompanied by his own voice in his head, narrating his life, no matter how dull and matter-of-fact, and more lately making his decisions and then being horrified or amused at the results. Finn could only think of two times his voice had been silenced: the first at the village on Jakku and the second on the sailboat with Poe. Two more contrasting situations he couldn’t imagine. They had nothing in common at all; how was he supposed to figure out how to silence himself from that?

“This person will need patience and practice. And also this.” Bela Raine flicked a switch and the small sim chamber shook with pounding rhythms and melodies of some music Finn didn’t recognize. She turned a dial and the volume increased. 

It vibrated through Finn’s body until his teeth were nearly chattering with it. Bela Raine stood and indicated the gunner’s seat. He took it.

“What do you want me to do?” he yelled, but the words were lost in the wall of sound, inaudible even to him.

Bela Raine leaned forward and pressed the sim start button and suddenly all that existed was the music, Finn and TIE fighters bearing down from all sides. Frantic, he jabbed at the firing button, forgetting to take aim. The lasers sailed into nowhere and the next second he was blown up by a direct hit. Bela Raine shook her head and pressed the sim start button again. This time he managed to take out a single TIE fighter before imminent death. By the fourth time he was back up to pre-deafening levels. By the fifth, he’d stopped fighting to hear himself through the noise and concentrated only on what was under his hands and up on the screen. By the tenth Finn felt a pulsing awareness of a _something_ , stretching from his brain to his fingertips as if they were connected by more than flesh, as if everything was connected. There was something familiar about the sensation, something that calmed and soothed. He watched the screen and followed the _something_ and fired. One. Again. Two. Again. Three. Four. Five.

Finn whooped. “Did you see that? Did you _see_ that? Eight!” Poe was right. In their way the laser cannon were just like blasters; you just had to learn what made each type of gun special and then use it.

Bela Raine turned the music off and the silence was so sudden it made Finn’s ears ring. “Still boom. Still dead.”

Finn felt the prick in his puffed chest and deflated. Eight, though. “I’m s- What I mean is, I’ll do better next time. I think I’m getting it. ”

“Eight was better. Nine would be better still. All is best.”

“Copy that.”

“Enough sim time for today. Run along, little man. Tomorrow that person will undergo live-fire training. Be prepared.”

Finn jumped to his feet. “Live-f- Ow!” His knees stung from a tail swat.

“There has been too much noise. Be quiet and leave this person in peace.”

Finn lifted his hand to mime zipping his lip, thought better of it and got the hell out before she could change her mind or damage any of his other joints.

***

The landspeeder cruised through the trees, Finn on high alert. Bela Raine had planted random targets and was activating them as they passed, measuring his accuracy and response time. So far he’d hit the lot. There was a sudden movement in the bushes to his right. He saw a flash of white and shot. The air was filled with a high-pitched scream like the desperate cry of a child.

“Stop! Stop!” yelled Finn, throwing himself off the landspeeder before it had even stopped moving. He took the weight of the fall on his shoulder, rolling with the momentum and shook it off, running towards the source of the sound. The animal lay half-hidden by the bushes, keening in distress, one hind leg hinged awkwardly. As Finn drew closer he could see that it had been almost torn away. He wanted to throw up, wanted to cry. His heart raced and every step towards the animal tore at him like he’d been wounded too. 

Finn reached the creature, pulling it into his arms. It was a maramu, the same species that Finn had fed with his golden sun-apples. Perhaps it was even the same one, there was no way to tell.

“I’m sorry,” Finn whispered. “I’m so sorry.” He forced himself to look into the animal’s eyes, to face the consequences of what he’d done. They were clouded and full of fear and pain. Finn’s throat closed.

“Finish it,” said Bela Raine’s voice behind him, making Finn jump. “This is cruel.”

She was right, Finn knew. Trembling, he drew his side-blaster. “It’s okay,” he told the maramu. “The pain will stop now.” He kept his eyes locked on the creature’s, letting himself fill with compassion and love and hoping desperately that somehow the dying animal could feel it. He raised the blaster and then he sensed a shift like a change in the visual spectrum, the violent, throbbing red of pain fading to a muted pink. For a second, the maramu’s eyes cleared, fear receding. 

“That’s right,” said Finn. “Go easy.” And he fired his blaster.

The maramu went limp in his arms and Finn was suddenly, horribly catapulted out of his here and now. His head was filled with the sound of blaster fire, of TIE fighters whining overhead, the rumble of destruction. His arms shook with the effort of pitting a lightsaber against a riot baton. The air was thick with stone dust and the smell of cauterized flesh and melted plastic. And he stood there, surrounded by the nameless dead. Inside his head, on Takodana, Finn lifted his face to the sky and screamed. Outside, on the cold, damp forest floor of Seven Flames, Finn clung to the maramu’s warm, dead body and cried. 

Somewhere in the distance he could hear Bela Raine saying, “Little man? Little man?” but he couldn’t stop. He was there on Takodana running from trooper to trooper, but their helmets wouldn’t come off. They never would. He would be here forever.

“Finn.” A sharp voice seemed to come from outside and inside at the same time. It cut straight through to the center of him. Startled, Finn looked up into the warm, understanding face of General Organa.

He tried to scramble to his feet without letting go of the maramu, but she motioned him to sit, following suit. Without a word she held out a handkerchief to him. Finn freed one hand and took it. He could only imagine what a mess he was in. He used the handkerchief to clean up as best he could and then stared at it, unsure if it was ruder to keep it or to give it back.

“Yeah,” said the General, dry as a bone, “the traditional comment here is, ‘keep it’. Snotty noses were always more Han’s thing.”

There was a part of Finn that knew he should be honored by that admission, but his head was still too far away to manage it. General Organa let the silence grow, sitting quietly with closed eyes, her breathing slow and steady. Finn, still half in Takodana, closed his eyes too. He listened for her, for the quiet, calm breaths that lay underneath the noise and chaos. There they were, like a path for him to follow. Finn walked it until all that was inside him was a blank space, until he could hear his own breathing in synchrony with hers. He opened his eyes and laid the dead maramu on the ground.

“Welcome home,” said General Organa with a smile that made Finn want to start crying again.

Instead he said, “How did you know?”

“Honey, you lit this place up like you’d set it on fire. I couldn’t have missed it if I’d tried.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.” General Organa nodded. “I think you should talk about it. I know that it can be difficult, but-”

“I didn’t check, why didn’t I check, who am I?” The words stumbled over each other in Finn’s rush to get them out. “I _killed_ them. I killed people I could have known, probably did know. I didn’t check. I didn’t even stop to _think_ , I just shot them. Like they were nothing. And now I’ll never know if one of them was Nines or Zeroes or…” He stopped, grief and guilt clogging his throat.

“I’m sorry, Finn.” The general’s voice was gentle, yet firm. “That’s a terrible position to be in, but this is war. This happens in war. People take sides and you can find yourself facing your friend, your lover, your _son_. Would it have been easier on your conscience to have killed them face to face?”

Finn shook his head. No. _No._

“Soldiers learn to justify, they learn to compartmentalize. I’m sure you’ve had that training. We kill them because they are evil, they kill us because they’re told the same thing. But no one being is evil, not really. It is their actions that make them so. It is the whole that is greater than the sum of its parts. But you can’t separate actions from the people who perform them. If he shoots my pilots out of the sky, does it matter that he has a fondness for music and always shares his breakfast omelet with his hungry colleague? It can’t. Do you understand?”

Finn managed some sort of affirmative noise. His head was splitting in two, half of it still horrified by what he’d done on Takodana, half accepting that in choosing the role of gunner he would be protecting his own by killing more faceless enemies who he’d once known. He’d made his choice: he hadn’t known it could be so hard to live with.

“But on the other hand we mustn’t shut ourselves off from feeling. Grief is a good emotion. It lets you know that you are alive and that you have the capacity to care about something outside yourself. Guilt is good too, in small doses. You can’t allow it to cripple you, to freeze you into inaction. There’s no time for that, not in war.”

“I can’t shake the feeling I did something wrong.” Finn shifted his weight backwards, off his knees.

“You _survived_. That’s the most basic instinct of all. You did what it took and so would anybody in those circumstances. You survived and because you did Starkiller Base was destroyed and all our lives and those of future targets were saved. That’s worth something, Finn. Does it counterbalance what you lost, what you had to do? Only you can make that decision, but I’d have to come down on the side of yes.”

“General-”

“Leia,” she interrupted. “I’m not so big on titles, especially when it’s not Resistance business.”

“Leia.” The name settled on Finn’s tongue as if it had always been there. “Thank you for bringing me back. I thought I was lost.”

“You only had to look for the path,” said Leia. “All I did was point you in the right direction.”

“I still don’t understand.”

Leia brushed a fallen leaf from the shoulder of her tunic. “I think it’s safe to say that you, my young friend, have found the Force. Or the Force has found you, I’ve never been entirely sure how that works.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever sensed something that no one else can? Been good at a skill beyond what would seem reasonable for the hours of practice you put in? Hell, you were raised to be a perfect First Order trooper and you tore through that conditioning like flimsi. That’s the Force.”

“I don’t...I can’t…” Memories came crashing in, of the village and his escapes from the _Finalizer_ and Jakku, of the sailboat, of his first encounter with a maramu, Poe’s nightmare, the dying animal, everything that had seemed like luck or isolated incidents or an overactive imagination all piling in on top of each other until he was buried under the weight of it.

“No!” He scrambled backwards, away from Leia, clutching his knees to his chest. “Rey’s the special one. I’m only Finn. I just want to be Finn. I don’t want it.”

Leia reached out a hand and then thought better of it, dropping it to her side. “The Force can be what you need it to be,” she said. “The problem with stories and myths is they only tell you the hero’s journey. Not every Force-sensitive is Luke Skywalker. Not every one should be. Don’t be afraid of it, Finn. The Force is what brought you to us.”

Mute, Finn shook his head. This was too much.

Leia rose, tutting at the dirt on her pants. She looked at Finn, her eyes kind and sad and too old. “You need to come home now, Finn.”

Finn wanted to refuse, but found he couldn’t. Leia wasn’t pushing at his mind, not in the way he’d seen Kylo Ren do it, but she was making her suggestion impossible to refuse. He thought about pushing back. He thought about his quarters and hot showers and his bed and Poe and gave in. He stood and followed her as she led him to her speederbike. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I gave you a lot to handle. Trust yourself, trust me. You’ll see, it will all be well.”

Finn couldn’t see how, unless he never heard about the Force again. He climbed on the bike behind Leia and kept his eyes on the horizon, the lingering stench of death beginning to fade as they sped away.

***

“That’s incredible!” said Poe and then he must have caught something on Finn’s face. “That’s not incredible?”

“I’m just figuring stuff out. I’m kinda getting used to who I am. I don’t want…” he waved his hand around in the air, “... _this_.”

“Buddy, it seems to me like you’ve got it whether you like it or not. Like those big, brown eyes of yours. Like that scar above the left one. Like the clutter gene. All you can do is choose what to do with it.”

Finn set his jaw and shook his head. 

“Do you need a hug right now? Because I could use a hug.” Finn couldn’t help but laugh as Poe echoed his own words back at him, opening his arms wide with a huge shrug. 

He shrugged back. “If it makes you happy,” he said, and let Poe haul him in for the embrace. Poe grabbed him tight, thumb and finger gripping the back of Finn’s neck and squeezing rhythmically. Finn slumped, letting Poe take his weight, arms suddenly too heavy to lift. 

“Don’t fight it,” said Poe. “Don’t fear it, don’t hate it. Trust me, you ain’t going anywhere near the Dark Side. The Force picked you up and you ran. You ran toward the light. You were right there. _Right there_. If it was in you, Kylo Ren could have a new best buddy by now.”

“I ran away from the First Order, not toward anything. I ran because I was afraid.”

“Did you?” Poe’s fingers stilled, their grip tighter. 

Did he? Maybe it hadn’t been cowardice. Maybe it had been shame and disgust. Maybe what he’d sensed at the village was the Force working through him to show him the error of his ways. Maybe it had set him on the collision course with Poe and Rey. Finn shuddered. Wasn’t that swapping one form of predetermined life for another? Where was his choice in all of this?

“I don’t know anything,” he muttered and pushed his cheek hard against Poe’s ear, twisting the front of his tunic in both hands. “I thought I did and I don’t.”

“You do know one thing.”

“What?”

Poe squeezed again. “You’ve got people who care about you, who trust you, who _believe_ in you. This Force stuff, it’s not a new thing you picked up like, oh, my _jacket_. This was always part of you; you just didn’t know it. Nothing changes, not really. You get a few more cool party tricks under your belt if you want them. You figure out how to do on purpose what you’ve been doing by chance and Palpatine’s your Emperor, you’re saving lives.”

Finn’s limbs crackled, like he was coming back to life, skin flushing with a pleasant heat. He let his hands fall and pulled back, Poe’s hand falling from his neck. “I actually feel better?”

“Hey, don’t sound so surprised!” Poe punched him in the upper arm.

“Nah, you’re a good guy, Poe Dameron. I’m lucky to have you.”

“Yes. Yes, you are. C’mon, let’s go get BB-8 and hit the mess. If there’s a queue you can use that Force to levitate us some dinner.”

Finn punched back with a little more strength than he’d thought.

“What?” said Poe with a wince. “I’m a helpful guy. I’m _helping_.”

***

A couple of nights later, Finn was on his own in his quarters. Poe had accompanied Leia offworld: a piece of intel had come in suggesting a potential source of a couple of broken-down X-wings, and Leia wanted Poe’s expert eye on them before she began negotiations. Finn puttered about a bit, rearranging his ever-increasing collection of souvenirs, straightening his boots under the bed, picking up his latest holobook and putting it back down again. He couldn’t settle, like something was sitting under his skin and itching at him. Poe’s jacket lay on the floor where it had fallen, one arm outflung as if in greeting.

Finn picked it up and began to attempt to fold it, tucking it under his chin and folding the arms back. No. That managed to leave the front flap of the jacket randomly sticking out a weird angle. Start again. He held it out and shook it and a piece of flimsi fluttered from a pocket onto the ground. Oh, he was holding it upside down, that would explain some things. Finn dropped the jacket on Poe’s bed, picking up the flimsi instead. He unfolded it, immediately recognizing the writing: this was the note that Poe had left him back on D’Qar. Finn remembered slipping it in the jacket pocket. Poe obviously hadn’t found it since then, though as he was more often in his flight suit than anything else, that wasn’t particularly surprising.

Finn reread the short note with a small smile. He looked over at his collection of souvenirs (“Clutter,” said his internal Poe. “Call it by its proper name.”) and then back at the note. He folded it in half and then half again and then put it on the top of the locker, placing his beach pebble on top of it to weight it down. To remember, Poe had said, and Finn wanted to. He wanted to remember that whether the Force had dragged him here for its own benefit or if he’d made his own way, he’d found a place he wanted to belong, where he could say stuff like, “What would happen if a rathtar fought a rancor? What would happen if a rathtar _had sex_ with a rancor?” and get half a dozen answers, a crudely sketched diagram and an insistent droid squaring off against a respectable analyst with blonde hair in side buns. Where he was told questions were good and mistakes were inevitable and welcome. Where his leaders showed and demanded compassion and it didn’t make them any less brave or competent. Where his friend slapped him on the back, or punched him on the arm, or threw an arm around his shoulders and cared so damn much it made Finn stand taller. 

He picked up the jacket again, making sure he had it right way up this time. Impulsively he put the collar to his nose and sniffed it. There it was, the scent he’d recognized when he’d first worn the jacket on D’Qar. Stronger now, the smell of starch faded in contrast. Finn could pick out the regulation soap now, but most of it was Poe, sweat and skin oils and Finn sniffed again, breathing it into his lungs. There was something hypnotically soothing about it and before he realized what he was doing, Finn slid the jacket over his shoulders.

Almost at the same time, Finn became aware of a new sensation, hungry and insistent. No, not new, exactly. It just suddenly seemed like something that had been gone a long, long time. He looked down at the front of his pants, grinning at the tenting of the stretchy material. Well, hello there! Long time no see! Normal service was resumed after all. What a weird time to be hit by the horny bug, Finn thought. And what the heck was he supposed to do with it? The First Order took a strong stance against masturbation: it was drummed into cadets that it was ultimately a selfish act, only helping yourself where two could easily be satisfied instead. It wasn’t like it was easy to stick your hand down your pants in secret, either, sharing with so many others. He’d tried a couple of times because he was too tired to go find someone to get off with only to have someone’s head pop up beside his bunk and offer a hook up. 

He could try now, no one was stopping him. Finn glanced at the door. Poe was definitely gone; it wasn’t like he could walk in on him. His dick twitched. _C’mon_ , it seemed to be telling him. _Help yourself, for once._

So he shucked his pants, made himself comfortable on his bed and touched himself, tentative at first, then with growing confidence. Thoughts tumbled through his head, too fast to catch, streaks of stars at light speed, falling weightless through space. He came hard, his whole body tensing, torso jerking upwards. Finn cradled himself, laughing, and fell back against the pillow. How could he not have known how much he needed that? Limp and rapidly cooling, Finn basked in the endorphin hit, buzzed and stupid. When could he do it again? More to the point, when could he do it with someone else? It was good, getting yourself off, and Finn figured if the First Order were against it then he should probably be 100% behind it, but he did miss the heat of another body.

How did that work here anyway? It wasn’t as if he could walk into the middle of some of the bigger quarters and say, “Oh, hey, who wants to play?” He thought about asking Poe what to do and then there was a mild frantic panic as he remembered he was still wearing Poe’s jacket. What if he’d gotten stuff on it? After reassuring himself that no, he hadn’t committed some kind of roommate faux pas, he asked himself again: Should he ask Poe how hook ups worked here? He remembered Jessica’s reaction to his question about sex and how maybe it wasn’t as straightforward as asking, and no way was he going to mess things up with Poe. He’d have to figure this one out for himself. Maybe he could ask Poe to get him a new holobook. There had to be something out there, right? Like, Sex, the Galaxy and You.

***

The following day Finn headed over to the mess on his own. It was weird not to be in Poe’s company; he even missed BB-8 burbling along beside them. He could easily go sit with someone else--Snap was always good for a laugh, the guys in Intel played a mean game of dejarik and were teaching Finn basic strategy, even Jessika was warming up to him slowly--he just preferred it when his best buddy was there, was all. He was pretty sure that was allowed under the rules of friendship: he’d have to ask.

As he crossed the open ground between his quarters and the mess, Finn saw C-3PO hurrying out of Ops. That droid always had an urgent quickstep and Finn knew by now it didn’t mean much. It would be no problem to interrupt him. He raised his hand in greeting, jogging over to meet him.

“Everything okay in there? Is the General headed back soon?”

“Greetings, sir”

“Not a sir. Just Finn is fine.”

“Of course, s-, er, Finn. May I check the ‘Just’ isn’t a title? I believe that on the homeworld of-”

“Not a title,” Finn interrupted. “Just. Finn.”

“Of course. Finn.” And though Finn knew better he could have sworn the protocol droid was smiling. Wait a minute. Protocol droid. What was it Jessika had said?

“Hey, 3PO, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. I would be happy to help.”

Finn rubbed the back of his neck, screwing up his face. How did you start a conversation on sex with a droid? “So, I’m not so hot at the rules of, like, _normal_ and I was wondering…”

“Yes, Finn?”

“What exactly is the protocol for finding someone to, you know, knock boots with?”

“Knock boots, sir? Sorry. Finn.”

“You know. Do the nasty. Hook up a power coupling. Charge up the old loading ramp.” Finn dropped his voice to a whisper. “Have _sex_.”

C-3PO’s head went back. “Oh, I see. You are unaware of the human concept of dating?”

“Dating?”

“It is quite common among human cultures. At its most simple, one human is attracted to another human and requests their company on an assignation of choice. Perhaps a starlit picnic or a visit to a quaint cantina. Pleasantries are exchanged.”

“And then?”

“Then further assignations are made on the strength of connection forged.”

“But what about the sex?”

“That would seem to depend on the couple in question, Finn. I believe that the best scenario is that both individuals in the dating relationship find each other sexually attractive and agree to explore the attraction at a mutually convenient time and place.”

Finn stared.

“Oh, dear, I would appear I am making this sound quite complicated. My understanding is that these things are readily apparent to the individuals involved. Is there anyone special in your life that you might choose to enter into such a relationship with?” 

“How would I know that?”

The droid twisted his head. “My databanks suggest that this is usually quite obvious. May I say, Finn, that your upbringing seems to have left you quite unprepared.”

“You may, but it’s still rude.”

“I apologies. Let me see, how might I help? Hmmm. My databanks suggest considering autonomic responses. Skin flushing, pupils dilating, a level of sexual arousal. Does that happen to you? A sense of emotional and physical closeness? Perhaps a metaphorical fluttering of the heart when the object of your affections is nearby. Wanting to spend time with them and missing them when absent.”

Finn considered. The only people he spent lots of time around were Poe and Bela Raine and he did not want to think about how humans and lizard people bumped uglies. As for the rest of it, yeah, he was missing Poe right now, but that made sense because they’d been practically sewn together for weeks. And maybe wearing Poe’s jacket had made him feel closer, and maybe his skin heated so fast where Poe touched it that he could feel the shape of Poe’s hand long after it had gone. And maybe he recognized that Poe was better looking than anyone else on the base and definitely doable, and there’d been those couple of times where he thought maybe if he didn’t get to tell Poe something _right now_ he might burst with wanting it, but none of that meant-

“Ohhhhh,” he said. 

C-3PO tilted his head again.

“I get it now,” said Finn. “I really get it.”

“Wonderful, Finn. Allow me to wish you the best of luck.”

“The General,” said Finn, his original question taking on an urgent cast. “Will she be back soon?”

“They are expected before nightfall.”

“Great. That’s...great! Thanks, buddy!” Finn grabbed C-3PO’s hand and shook it vigorously, much to his consternation, and then ran to the mess to fuel up. He hoped he was going to need it.

***

Finn waited as long as he could after Poe got back to quarters and through the refresher before he said anything. He let him talk about X-wings and the issues with T-65 to T-70 compatibility until he’d run dry, all the while watching Poe’s hands cut the air with sometimes dangerous enthusiasm, Poe’s mobile lips shaping the words he was not listening to at all. How had he not noticed before what an incredible mouth Poe had? He did this thing where he bit his lip when he was thinking and all Finn wanted was to do was bite it himself.

It seemed really obvious, now he thought about it.

Eventually, he couldn’t stand it any longer, either the top of his head was going to blow off or he was going to throw up and neither of those were great recommendations for someone datable if you went by 3PO’s standards. So when Poe asked, “You been okay, buddy?” he blurted out, “You’re so hot. I really like you. I think we should date and have sex. We can skip the dating if you like. I mean, the sailboat counts, right? Requesting company on assignations of choice like C-3PO said. And that time you let me pilot the scout? And all those times you bought me drinks? So, yeah, skip that and go straight to the sex.”

Poe stared at him, wide-eyed and flushed. “Whoa there. You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?” Finn gripped the edge of his cot, legs jittering. 

Poe’s mouth opened and closed and nothing came out. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, which mussed up his still-damp hair in a way Finn immediately categorized as no fair, too attractive. Poe tried again. “You can’t just dive in like that, you gotta give a guy some warning. That’s not how we do things.”

“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be easier if it was?”

“I…” Poe shrugged. “I guess? Give me a break, though. I’m a little winded here. Besides, what about Rey?”

Finn’s smile at Rey’s name was automatic. “What about her?”

Poe waved a finger in the general direction of Finn’s face. “That smile. See? You really like her. Wouldn’t you rather be sleeping with her?”

Wait, was this another option that he hadn’t considered? Finn frowned, replaying his memories of Rey. “I really like her,” he said, starting slowly, feeling his way through it. “We saved each other like you and me did, but I don’t know what that means.”

“But you do with us?”

Now that was something Finn hadn’t stopped thinking about since his conversation with C-3PO. “You watched over me when I slept. You want me to be safe. You rubbed cream on my back and you tell me the truth when I ask you and you help me figure out this complete mess of a life I’ve got going here. You take me places and show me things and you’re a hot, smart, funny badass pilot. I really, _really_ like you, Poe. And now I know that I want you to know it too.”

There was that lip-biting thing again. Finn’s mouth tingled just looking at it. Why weren’t they naked yet? What was the hold up?

“Okay. Honestly? Look at you. Why wouldn’t I want to sleep with you?”

Finn started up but Poe motioned him down again with a sweep of his hand. 

“Not done. I want to sleep with you because you’re super hot. From the second I laid eyes on you, actually. But I also want to sleep with you because you were strong enough to break away from the only life you’ve ever known because it was wrong to stay. Don’t start with the coward thing again, I’m not taking it. You came back when you could have run and then you set off running straight towards the danger to save a friend. You might not have everything worked out, but you’re brave and resourceful and you want to eat the world and I really, _really_ like you too. What I don’t want is to get in the way of you figuring out who Finn’s gonna be, so…” Poe spread his hands, admitting defeat.

No way, thought Finn. See a brick wall run through a brick wall. “Nun-uh,” he said. “Everyone else gets to define themselves in relation to other people. General Organa is Ben’s mom, like it or not. You get to be your mother’s son, Chewie was Han’s best friend, even BB-8 gets to be your droid and Rey gets to be Skywalker’s apprentice. Why can’t I be Finn who’s Poe’s-” He snapped his fingers in Poe’s direction. “-what’s the thing you called it?”

“Boyfriend?”

“Hah! I totally knew that! Score one to me. Boyfriend.”

“What if we tried it and it didn’t work? What if we broke up?”

“Broke up? How would we break?”

“You’re making my point here. This is Human Basic. Breaking up means the relationship finishes because one or both of us don’t want to be together any more. Maybe there’s someone else. Maybe one of us is just not into it any more.”

“Then that would suck. Because I am super into you, trust me. And then I would be Finn who used to be Poe’s boyfriend and I wouldn’t stop being me because it would only be part of who I am. The rest of me is all those things you said, if I can live up to them. All those things and more I haven’t figured out yet. Good stuff and bad stuff. I don’t need to have all the answers yet. I’m still learning the rules and screwing things up and that’s okay. It’s like being born again.”

“Told you that you’re a kid.” Poe immediately got his hands up to defend himself.

“Do not even try that.” Finn launched himself across the room landing on top of Poe who threw himself sideways at the last moment, narrowly avoiding smashing both their heads into the wall. Landing underneath Finn, Poe got a leg over his and tried to flip him.

“Uh-uh.” Finn pushed down with all his weight, making a grab for Poe’s hands to pin him. Poe wriggled free and jabbed at Finn’s ribs. Finn curled up, laughing, and Poe pounced, this time succeeding in reversing their positions, thighs clamped to Finn’s thighs, his laughing face hovering over Finn’s. 

“I am the greatest of them all,” said Poe. “Say it.”

Poe’s heat bled through Finn’s thighs, rolled over his belly like a wave under a summer sky. Finn had never wanted like this before, with every cell in his body yearning for contact, with the need to make himself part of Poe, make Poe part of him. 

“You are the greatest. Please. Poe.” Finn’s hands went straight for Poe’s pants, cursing at the knotted drawstring. He growled, pulling at them. There was a tearing sound and then Poe’s hand gripping his wrist.

“Hey, hey, slow it down. What’s the rush? Ain’t no Captain waiting to bark orders at you here.”

“But-”

“No. This.”

Poe leaned down, meeting Finn with a kiss and every part of him burst into glorious life. Nothing in his past sex life of impersonal efficiency had given him the slightest hint that a simple slide of lips against lips could be so overwhelming. He wanted to push up, grind against Poe, open up to him, but he didn’t, letting Poe set the pace. He’d always been good at following orders.

And it was worth it. Poe seemed determined to make sure Finn was thoroughly kissed. He took his time. Lips first, slow and soft and sweet, then moving up to kiss the scar on Finn’s browline, then down his jawline to his neck, hands creeping under Finn’s tunic, fingertips skimming his sides. Finn shuddered, tiny spikes of pleasure racing over his skin, already achingly hard. Poe shoved the tunic up Finn’s chest and Finn obligingly put up his arms so he could pull it off the rest of the way. Then Poe’s mouth was back on him, this time kissing the length of his shoulder scar. It had healed in a dark ridge and Finn didn’t know if he was feeling Poe’s lips against it or if it was an echo of a sensation, memories that Finn was already storing even as they were happening.

Poe kissed his way across Finn’s chest, adding a little tongue swirl around each nipple that made Finn gasp and twitch. 

“Like that?” Poe’s voice rumbled against Finn’s skin. “Good to know. Now turn over.”

He knelt up, giving Finn room to follow his command then sat back down, his weight on Finn’s thighs. There was no mouth this time. Instead, soft fingertips traced delicate patterns against his lower back either side of his spine. Tiny spikes of pleasure rushed out again, coalescing into ripples that shivered across his skin. The fingers moved slowly, inexorably up Finn’s back, sensation building to an intensity he could barely contain. Finn ground himself into the mattress, whether to distract from what was happening or to heighten it he couldn’t be sure.

Just when it felt like he might die if Poe didn’t get those fingers to his neck already, they were gone and Poe’s mouth was back at the base of his spine, kissing his way up the new skin there. Now Finn really was going to die. He loved it, he hated it, he _wanted_ it. Unable to keep still, he thrashed his feet against the bed, hands gripping and releasing the mattress with convulsive jerks.

“Poe,” he said. “I can’t- Not much longer.”

Poe’s breath was warm against him as he laughed. He seemed to move a little quicker, though, or Finn was so deep into it that time stopped having any meaning. He got closer and closer to Finn’s neck, the anticipation mounting with every kiss, every stroke. And then there he was, a single solitary fingertip touching the spot where neck curves into shoulder and it was the perfect release. Finn’s whole body tensed and convulsed and he came, his shout of release and relief muffled by the pillow.

Then Poe’s voice was in his ear, warm, dark and amused. “I really am the greatest, huh?”

Finn managed a nod, cheek rubbing against the soft pillow fabric. “Awuzza...wharzama…” he garbled and then tried to pull it together. “Just…” he flapped a hand, “...give me a minute and I’ll be right with you.” The second the words were out of his mouth he was asleep.

Finn slid awake slowly, aware that he was cooler on one side than the other. He thought maybe he’d been dreaming. Something about water and sea birds, but it dissipated as soon as he tried to touch it, like clouds after a rainstorm. He yawned, stretching. Man, but he was hungry. 

“Hey there, sleepyhead. Welcome back. We’re gonna have to work on your concept of time and reciprocity.”

Finn turned his head and blinked at Poe, trying to bring him into focus. pretty sure he was only supposed to have two legs. The rest must belong to Poe. 

“Where am I?”

“Always a classic.” Poe grinned. “You’re in my bed, where you belong. What’s your name?”

“Finn,” said Finn. _Finn Dameron_ , he thought, but maybe he’d wait a little longer to see if Poe was okay with that. He grinned back, relaxed and happy in a way he’d never felt before. There was a shift and Finn sensed the Force letting itself in through the wide-open spaces of his mind. Finn’s first instinct was to shut down against it, push it away, but it pulsed through him, threading in fine lines of connection between him and Poe, illuminating him so that he shone as bright as he’d always been in Finn’s imagination since the day they met. 

Screw it, thought Finn. Nothing in his life had turned out the way it was supposed to. He could live worrying himself about a bunch of what ifs like what if he’d never been stolen, what if he’d never left the First Order, what if he hadn’t gone back for Rey, what if he hadn’t shot the maramu, but what good would that do? Far better to look forward with an open heart, good people by your side and ask the what ifs of the future. Let it in. Let it all in. Whatever life had in store he could take it. He was Finn. And that was good enough.

***FIN***


End file.
